Here I stand again at the crossroads
of Shame and Compassion.
There is no choice.
The narrower road, darkened
by years of overhanging judgment,
reaches out its tendrils to ensnare me;
my knees buckle, something
sinks inside as I see myself
falling again, hating again
this self that can’t stand tall,
until, in the seeing, I realize
I am more
I am the one who sees
and is present
and sad.
Now the other way
widens and clears, and I hear
the faint laughter of a friend
calling me home,
calling me Whole.
Photo by Charles Parker at Pexels
