Not Mine

I chose to have a voice.

Because, sometimes, you just have to finally speak.

And, by speaking, put an end to the bullshit.

There are piles of shit everywhere.


I'm always stepping over, around or in one.

All of those well-meaning, or not so well-meaning, people just keep dumping them in the middle of the road.

Don't you read the signs?

Clean up after yourself. Clear the way. Don't make it harder than it already is.

Basic respect for other people, living their lives in the same general vicinity as you.

Tell me why it suddenly occurs to you to come charging in, full steam, blindly flailing.

Tell me why it seems appropriate to dump your garbage here, on me.

Or better yet, don't tell me. I don't need to know.

Because I get it.

Human beings are all similarly flawed. We all carry the same gene that causes emotional blindness and spiritual destruction.

We all have moments where we forget to tread gently, to speak kindly, to consider someone else before ourselves.

It's what we do.

So I get it.

But I don't accept it.

Nor will I carry the shame you seem so intent on flinging off of your shoulders and onto mine.

There is an appropriate place to discard your hurt, your fear, your judgements.

So, take it there. Leave it there. Find grace and be restored.

Leave me here to navigate the rubble of my life.

Because as I fly forward, having found a voice, your petty words spray from my wings like dust. They dissipate. They are nothing.

What I take with me is a reminder to keep my flesh from barreling over someone else in my haste to be right.

Humility would save us all if we'd let it.

*October 2012