as obvious as it was,
i still felt as if there was a resounding click in my head
and the lights suddenly came on
and my heart--which sulked in the darkness before
could only be tempted to sulk again now
if only for disappointment
that it no longer had a legitimate excuse
to pity party over its own blindness
i wanted
to blame
the world
because i was blind
and it was always "i didn't know"
or "how was i supposed to know"
it was always, always
because of
them
because i,
little i,
little, big ego'd, poor me, i
bullied by all the bad guys,
tortured heroine,
martyr to everyone else's wrongs, i
didn't know
any better
what a horrifying experience it was
(to my tragic unwritten autobiography of my unjust trials, of course)
for this comfortably self-proclaimed--
as well as genuinely in many ways--
blind me
to finally see
that we were all
blind
each one of us
as blind, or less blind, in some cases--
more blind
as the other
what a tragedy for me,
like no other tragedy
to finally make out
that these unblurring figures
within this unexpected flicker of lights
the same figures
the same villainous figures
terrible, terrible people
who had for so long
assaulted me
pushed
and shoved
and pushed
and shoved me
around
these same people
who were unreasonable,
irrational, frustrating--
these people
who i thought so indignantly
to myself
"...should be ashamed!"
for all the pushing and
shoving they had done
what a tragedy it was
to have no one to blame
when i saw these same
"terrible people"
blindfolded
as well
"people aren't perfect"
these words
what i believed
and still believe
as God's words
as he coaxed me
out of my anger
and tantrum of tears
unraveled
merely a string,
a thread, just one of many
a thread within
the intertwined fibers
of the blindfold
that i had lived with
wrapped around
my own head
and blurring, blocking,
even distorting
the vision before me
these words
unraveled a longstanding thread
from a web
of my own
false,
selfish,
comfortable,
naive
reality
these people whom
i blamed and hated
looked down on
was angry with
offended by
and couldnt forgive
for all the times
they walked away
were just
as blind
as i was
a room
an endless room
a whole world's worth
of room
of a bunch of people
their eyes cobwebbed with lies
barely able to make out their surroundings
i watched as they bumped into each other
some nonchalant, some confused,
so many surprised
and every one
afraid
so much so that at times
they shoved each other away in a panic--
when they couldn't recognize what just came towards them
while some grew defensive
angry, frustrated
and pushed right back
others, and those same defensive angry ones,
i watched them
as they retracted, withdrew,
from unfamiliar
from the unknown
yet at the same time
hesitantly
when they thought there was
no one around
to judge
they would reach out
in the same
kind of panic
afraid
to be
alone
i watched them
blindfolded
hurting each other
on purpose
and on accident
with the same kind of desperation
whether they were reaching for
or pushing away
from each other
the same desperation
that wanted to ask someone
to please stay
some could find hands to hold
somehow through some trials
but even then
the fear doesn't stop
the insecurity of what can't be seen
starts to creep in
and the fragility of your heart
can be felt all the way down
to your now
cold
shaking
fingers
and sometimes
no matter how tight
the hold, how comfortable the hand,
how many the days
that passed
that they were holding
they let go
one before the other
or the other before one
but never really..really
at the same time
too many times
the fear of the unknown
of what they can't see
overpowers
even the warmth
of the hand
they feel
to be real
the presence of their fear
of the unknown
outweighs the warmth
they already know
because in a way
that warmth
is even more
unfamiliar
even more
unknown
that the unknown
itself
we're used
to the unknown
whereas the warmth
is scary
because it leads us to
a place
of comfort
that we don't know
how to trust
...i digress
"people aren't perfect"
were liberating words
because finally i could forgive
the ones who i
in my own imperfection
expected to be,
rejected for not being,
blamed, villainized,
and was angry at
for not being
they were freeing in that
i could stop beating myself up
along with them
for not upholding
such an impossible standard
in return
"people aren't perfect"
for so long
i had no idea
how much
i expected them to be
and how much
that expectation
probably made their lives harder
as well as mine
nobody wants to be the villain
most times, people don't mean to be
"people aren't perfect"
was God's exhale of forgiveness for me
to all the people who i had held a grudge towards
for not being
those words--as common sense
as they should have been--
caught me off guard
how long had i been so unfair?
to others and myself.
years later and the same words
try to creep back into my still stubborn, indignant mind,
to remind me not to hate,not to be unkind,
to be patient,
to forgive
i would like to say that back then was so much easier to than this
but if i think about it, i guess both have their own difficulties,
just different types, different people,
varying degrees of ridiculous
except where before i was sobbing unpleasantries,
shaking my fists at the sky from my martyr throne,
now i tut-tut with the practice of the pioneer pharisees (i wish i had a milder example)
shaking my head at those who should know better
but obviously wont until they learn the hard way
and rather than thinking of their pain
i would much rather dwell on the inconvenience
of the frustration that they are causing me
still the same me-centered thinking if i put it that way
which i guess is why i needed to process this whole thing over again to begin with
Lord,
tell me again
that people aren't kind
not always
people aren't right
because our determination to be
can be the very thing that puts us in the wrong
that people can't always be "good"
if even just because
we don't quite really know
what that means
or looks like
"people aren't perfect"
and that is okay.
Lord, please help teach me
to be kind to that
to remember where that comes from,
to invest time in where people are coming from
and to forgive, forgive, forgive
especially when
you don't even know if you have
or will be given
the proper place to
"people aren't perfect"
and that is okay.
...but maybe healing doesn't always look
the way we thinkit will, does, or should look
healing belongs to You, Lord
it is Yours to give
i believe that it will come
in Your version of it
rather than mine
because the only kind of healing
i can imagine for myself
is limited by the imperfection
of who i am
if people aren't perfect, Lord
and You are
please help me to trust in Your healing
rather than stubbornly waiting
on a probably self-serving one that is mine
one thread at a time
i know
we'll be okay.
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