When my friend said in hushed tones
that she didn’t want to call sister this week,
I knew what she was saying.
There is so much pain in our collective field,
each one of us is struggling,
framing this wound we suffer
according to our own journey,
how we sit with pain.
Faith is completely personal.
My own jug leaks water.
My sins run out behind me
and I do not see them.
If you call me to judge another,
I am not blameless.
“Jug” story is from Abba Moses,
pg 36 The Way of the Heart, Henri JM Nouwen
Poetry is not usually for me, but this was beautiful – and so true. And the colors! They’re lovely, too.
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