Sometimes the edges of night are indistinct, like a
muffled sound or a photograph slightly
out of focus. Shadows play tricks.
Things are not exactly as
they seem.
Clarity wears no badge of certainty,
I have been clearly wrong.
Precision can be a guess with a PhD.
But what of love?
“Perfect love casts out fear”
“Love is patient and kind.”
“The greatest of these is
love.”
But love loses something in the transmission
from perfection to people.
I am the problem,
a cracked container.
You, too?
My hope is for my cracks to be mended;
is that what redemption is about?
Is that the Story and the final
solution?
But what if love was never meant to be
stored in perfect containers?
What if I’m supposed to leave a trail of it
behind?
Maybe to be fully human is to have a chip or two,
and a crack here or there
in order for Love to nourish a thirsty creation.
What if redemption is not patching for perfection,
but refilling again and again
for a walk in the world?
Roger Pierce December 13, 2019
Wonderful words and thoughts. Thank you. Interesting to me that you signed this one.