baditudes (Micah 6:1-8; Psalm 15; Matt. 5:1-12)

i could come carrying the
                  ashes
      of my arrogance,
            handing them to
        you,
   waiting expectantly
          (just ignore the tap, tap, tap
              of my foot)
      for you to
recycle them into a plaque
         with my name etched in
                bronze;


i could come
      with crocodile tears
         (running down my cheeks)
   about how the world
                     operates,
            even as i continue
      to gain from the
               predicaments of
            others;


i could come sitting down
         at the table reserved
         in the quiet corner,
      ordering the special of the day:
            filet of bias (medium well),
            mashed meanness,
            a medley of injustices sauteed
                in herb butter,
         followed by apple pie
                     ala marred.


or
i could simply follow the
                        Blesseds,
      carefully placing
   my feet in the
               tracks
         they leave behind
      in the muck and mud,
            as they wander through that
                   kingdom
   they can see
          with their eyes shut
tight.


(c) 2011 Thom M. Shuman