is recognizing
how powerful
the fear of death is.

How you can rarely accuse
another human being
of a sin of omission.

Jesus never said why
a certain Priest or Levite
kept walking passed a beaten traveler.

Could they have done more? 
That’s between them, God,
and bandits hiding in caves.

Full vulnerability
is as beautiful
as it can be deadly,

to cast aside self-preservation
for the sake of a man
on the brink of death.

We have all withheld our love
at some point or other
because the giving cost too much.

Even the man who commits the sin
only got there because he didn’t care
enough for his soul to change his fate.

In one moment, we fail.
It only becomes a problem
in repetition.

My worst enemies
have all been people
who stopped working on themselves.

Evil men who
at some point or other
should have been called out.

None of this is to absolve the sin itself.
Maybe it’s more my search
for a way to let trauma go

to admit that my enemies
are also human beings
with the same weaknesses as me,

weaknesses I have also caved to.
I may be my story’s hero, but
that doesn’t mean I’ve done only good.

Good can still be found, though
if my victims
would for once call me out.

In absence of that, the broken will always remain
when nobody willing comes along
to mend.