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Poem

My suit of self-loathing no longer fits
The mirror of compassion tells me so
Years of bad-intentions held back growth 
After a time, the length of my sleeves bind
I didn’t realize I’ve become over-sized

These angry pants are fit for a small child
How silly I look with cuffs choking wrists
How I’ve loved my painfully straight jacket
Like it or not, the right suit still waits
No one other than I can disrobe loathing

The best cloak is the one from the womb
It takes skill to unstitch a childish blazer
It takes care to unhem pants outgrown
It takes love to go out in my birthday suit
Let tatters of anxiety fall down the chute

Self-loathing keeps me from disrobing
But, I’m not ready to shed my suit yet
The manly scissors that cuts are too heavy
After self-loathing is bare understanding
Forgive the man unstitching childishness

Let go of short-comings without clinging
Take the macho suit off the rack with care
Try on that fitted suit made for just me 
Wear it till love fills the over-sized space 
Take it all off till nakedness feels nice 

Matthew 24:18
"Whoever is in the field must not turn back to get his cloak."

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