The drunken man
“Aren’t you ashamed
of yourself?”
the woman asked the
drunken man
(who had stumbled
and stomped upon her toe).
“Yes,” he replied,
“every moment
of every hour of
every day.”
How to tell serum
from pathogen,
elixir from
applejack? A shot of whiskey
might prove a
bracing tonic for one
but, it’s like
gasoline on the fire of a raging drunk.
A madman might be
slapped and brought
to his senses or, sent
off on a violent spree.
The Prayer says, Repent . . . for our constant
failures,
but does the
evidence add – then proceed unashamed?
Repent and see the essence
of yourself above the artifice?
Drowning in shame,
what do our inherent
and ever-recurring
failures and repentances matter?
What drove the
children from the garden? –
their
transgressions or their disgrace
even now enmeshing,
riddling with culpability,
the daily
machinations of their progeny?
O child of God,
keep your head above water
by endlessly
repeating the name of your Beloved.
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