M. Aline

We may not ever grow

If the only place we water is soaked soil

Where our feet have dragged many years

But have dreaded to wander

Troubled by our ancestors

And not moving forward

Out of fear

Of what they saw

And who they would be

They’d tell you not to please others

Because you can’t please everybody

You are only to please the one who created you

To reap the harvest you have been gifted

Allow your field to multiply greatly

To let righteous love blossom

And abound beyond the walls of sinners

A man who steps into his role

Loving his woman through his tattered soul

She sees him through his most vulnerable state

Loving her man through a recovering mind

We’re all just broken humans

Trying to glue back pieces of ourselves

Not to satisfy ourselves as much

But to satisfy those who love us

Who would we be

Without the care and affection

Towards strange and sacred others

Ones who point out our shortcomings

Only to criticize their own

Let not the hypocrite point to their neighbor

Unless he shall also point to himself

For we may never grow

In soil that has been over-watered

Or never watered at all