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Flagellation

“If you knew how to suffer, you would be able to not suffer.”
    ~ Acts of John, verse 94

Because I have little faith
That coincidences are just coincidences,
Because anyone sufficiently intuitive
Meaning everyone
Can appreciate the reasons for all things
And can come to sense that there are always reasons,
Because you were one of the best helpers
On my way to that understanding,
Let others ask
How it transpired,
Since what I have to go on is all I ever needed
Something of how you were
In the years before I didn’t mind revealing myself
To be the strange sort of bird that I am
And was still the ugly duckling to whom people came
To find a bit of warmth,
If only by comparing me to themselves
As though they caught some hint of that strangeness afoot,
So even those years older than I confided in me then
Such concerns as your way of clamming up so
Inopportunely as to put your adult son in dismay
Until he sounded the horn against the idiocy of it all
On the empty highway:
Let others ask
Whether that’s what led you there,
Or whether it was your daughter’s stays in the mental ward
Until there was no money for more stays
Let others ask
Whether it was because of that
Or whether her claims of having been molested
Becoming as we all knew so
Much crying wolf those times she neglected her meds
That led you,
Or whether it was because of the divorce
Making you feel fraudulent
As you preached the gospel to two backwoods churches
Sunday after fire and brimstone Sunday
Remembering enough Hebrew and Greek to present your own holy writ translations
Yet forgetting that you’re human as your tiny congregations
Of the people that God has joined together and too
Somehow haven’t always stayed that way,
Or whether because you left the ministry
To which you had sworn yourself
Because you could no longer handle the cognitive dissonance
As holy man with scattered confused family,
That you let yourself be drowned
Physically and I suppose spiritually
In such filth that this bird can’t fly to you
Find you
Take under wing you
Who were so unreservedly helpful in life, to guide you
From the stench of the murky depths in which you
Find yourself
Wherever you may now be,
No never mind those questions
From this world that needs the help of the worldly wise
Probably like never before
Let me ask
Rather
Why you won’t lay off of yourself
Dredge yourself
Raise yourself
Cleanse and resanctify yourself
Unclam and undevote yourself
Heal yourself
Of your self-inflicted self-infected wounds and bear yourself
Bare the beautiful pure soul that’s all you ever needed
To help again?

Thanks always returns

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