Apostate
At the heart of ev’ry rebellion
Lies a poisoned barb of Pride
So corrosive and so corruptive,
That we scarcely note its effect
Until it is everlastingly too late:
We’ve staggered away from light’s warm embrace—
And for what?
Offense? Contention?
Diverging views?
It’s hard, I’ve noted,
To kick so continuously against the pricks.
It’s cold where we’ve made our new home
And comfort seems fleeting.
But we are, of course, correct—
And we can take comfort in such fact.
Established norm had grown outdated,
Conventions had become tired,
And change, of a certainty, was requisite.
We had changed—should not what we believe change with us?
We cried for it, lusted for it,
And, when it came not and we were called
To repentance...
The barb twisted in just a bit deeper.
We cut our ties,
We sunk our covenants in the river,
And we made our way to other roads
And freer byways.
...But why is it so bleak here?
And where is the Sun that we so long enjoyed?
The land seems pitted, scarred, angry...
And we are unable to put down deep roots.
Must we wander through these mists much longer?
We seem to have lost our way.
We seem to have lost a lot.
But we can’t go back to where we’ve been!
Not after the censure, not after the shame.
We burned our dwellings there to ash
And ignored their entreatings as we
Took up our journey down paths once forbidden us.
We left for peace of mind, for joy.
And we’re confident that it will come...
At the heart of ev’ry rebellion
Lies a poisoned barb of Pride
So corrosive and so corruptive,
That we scarcely note its effect
Until we feel that it is everlastingly too late:
We’ve staggered away from truth’s warm embrace—
And for what?
(2013)
