Redemption

Motes & Beams

Will we be honest to our faults
Or will we let them tame us
Whittle us down to a redundant grouse
And unname us

Spitting images of spitting cobras
Hooded and reflexively defensive
We aim for the eyes with our venom
And we hiss

How small we are in this
Shriveling ourselves with our hatred
Unapproachable and unaware
While our own poison degrades us

We let our own faults go nameless
So they swallow us gradually
Till in the blind dark our spit runs empty
And we sputter into silence

Originally Published on Faith Danielson