Getting caught requires something in return.
A confession? An explanation? Or…
When the culture cries out for blood.
When exposed, what do we do?
Do we leave our guilty behind?
How we treat our culpable reflects upon our culture.
My throwing arm, sore.
My stones, too heavy and covered in my self-portrait.
My high horse, attempted to trample me underfoot.
What you did was not okay.
But I’m done with it and moving on.
Restitution must be made.
Only the few
Will risk getting dirty
To pick a fellow human out of the muck and mire.
To risk giving a second chance.
To stand with the guilty.
To visit the prisoner in a jail
Of their own design.
Our own wounds dictate
If we react or respond to the fallen.
Regardless if they chose to fall.
We all fall.
We all make unwise decisions.
We focus on our guilty and what they did.
When do we look within to ask why we feel so strongly?
Why do we crave vengeance?
Why extend grace, which always exists
Outside of reason and logic?
[Poem #165. Context: This poem is inspired by my new friend Meagan Kunert. She made an unwise decision, and the fallout is…tremendous. For more of the story, read her blog post here. For a snapshot of the full spectrum of our humanity, read through the comments her blog post.]