Poem: Rotten

Flannery O Conner titled a book “The life you save may be your own”. Which she wanted to call “The world is almost rotten”

Rotten

I hate moments when I realize I knew better and did it anyway, when I become conscious to the fact that I voiced because I needed to. When I see how even my care is about me. J says that everyone does that sometimes.

I hate moments that feel like I have birthed something into relationship sideways. That I intruded. That I am like all other people in this world, an adult 2 year old.

I hate moments when I am not able to hold all this with grace. When all I do is dive into how deserved anger towards me is instead of just stand in my humanity knowing I was not born to be God, nor perfect.

I hate moments when all my judgments towards others who intrude in word or action or vibe, without invitation or permission come boomeranging back and hit me in the head. Are we always parts of those we judge?

And above all I hate moments when I didn’t grieve. When I didn’t surrender to the implicit “no”. When I don’t even know where I put the white flag of surrender. Damn white flag.

I wonder sometimes if not surrendering is the root of rottenness? And then I think If I have to surrender to save my own life, I’d much rather save someone else’s.