I.
You sit afar like cheetahs
Swift and violent are your blows
The cackling of hyenas
Resonate through your burrows
Behind the shrubs you speculate
As just after I crawl,
I finally learn to stand—
Your hearts anticipate my fall
I wobble on my baby legs,
Fight to support my weight
"Please do not fall," a desperate beg
My newborn lips do pray
Alas! This child stumbles
Atop roots—an overgrowth
Direct into the mud I fall—
A scattered mess of woes
"Please help me, lift me up!"
My spotted, soiled hands I fire
Into the sky, in hopes someone
Will lift me from the mire
I see a rustling in the bush
Mere yards from where I moan
"I do not know this forest
You right there, please lead me home!"
Another rustling, hushes, crushing
Leaves beneath your paws
Those silhouettes—your bodies rushing
Far away from this bog
You say to them, "My hands are clean
And blameless do I stand.
I did not touch her filthy, mucky,
Dirty, evil hands."
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II.
You sit afar and ponder
What you saw with your own eyes
To your own pride you whisper,
"None is holier than I."
How can one say he is a friend,
But only through the good?
Till when I fall, he scampers
Can’t be caught within the woods!
Your claws, they injure easily
Not pain that aids growth, though
But maims that lift you high
By pushing me further below
I wish not to pierce with words
As your gaze has punctured me
My wish is for your benefit:
That your sightless eyes may see
What kind of love shoots daggers
At one that's been overthrown?
and causes him to stagger
Just to leave him on his own?
The holiest, the whitest hands
Are quickly spattered on
By magnifying spots
On someone else's blemished palms
Don't wound without intention
Of helping also to heal
Don't let your heart shrivel
So that our pain you cannot feel
Do not point out my wrongs
Without intent to help recoup
These flaws don't judge for judging's sake
Lest I point out yours, too
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