Poem: Judgment

Judge not, that ye be not judged. Matthew 7:1

We seek the things most like our selves we like.
We shun the things most like our selves we hate,
And all the rest we hardly see at all.
Daily we judge ourselves in part unfit.
That part we toss upon a rubbish heap,
And all resembling parts in other people.
Up from the heart,
Unruly thoughts are turned,
Feelings flow chaotic.
We are twisted inside out,
Like soil stirred by the plow.
Rotting roots and loathsome grubs
Disenchant this hallowed inner ground,
Our person's place infested more with weeds
Than finer flowers.
This is not the hour we feel we need.
We think ourselves unsound.
We put an ear to ground
And hear the rumbling traffic
Under over-earthy soil.
No matter how we toil
To clean the covering grass,
The under soil shows through.
We are earth, indeed.
We cannot hide from who we are.
There is a Plow that turns our soil.
There is a Heat to drive the bugs up.
There is always Light to give us vision,
And, if this process has a name,
We call it Grace.
In it, we see a truer image of our face.
In it, each day we have a chance
To love ourselves anew,
And loving all we see in us
Is loving all we see in others too.

Copyright 2006 by M. David Orr