smudges

And we all hurt each other, she said,
and we didn't mean to.
We didn't see,
didn't know,
didn't understand.
We're all stumbling down
this same winding road
and not one of us really knows
what we're doing.

We've got the light,
but we keep it under baskets.
We've got the guide book,
but our eyes find its characters strange.
We've got everything we need
to walk a straight line,
but the glass is still dark looking through.
And yesterday's clarity
takes on a shape unforeseen,
and our dance steps are cluttered.
Red ink on manuscripts
screams of misjudgments,
but too late:
the presses are already running.

The story we're telling
isn't the one we wrote
in our heads
in our youth
in the shadows.
It was neat and clean.
It had a happy ending.
We weren't always tripping on our feet,
looking back aghast
at priceless, shattered vases
and hearts.
But here we are;
and where are we?

We never meant to hurt each other.
We wielded swords without wisdom,
too much asleep,
clinging blind to selfish folly,
not understanding,
shedding blood
careless,
unaware.

Oh, forgive each other-
forgive, and be healed.
Lay quiet before the mercy that raised us,
and tremble to do otherwise.
Be still and remember
what we are,
and why.

We shed His blood,
but He gave it to free us from darkness,
And we stand speechless,

by love unmasked.