When I was younger I wrote a letter to some family members talking about what I thought was irresponsible behavior by the adults in my life when I was an adolescent. Yet some people misinterpreted it (or chose to misinterpret it) to be a confession of bad behavior on my part. The truth is that I was not responsible at such an age. It was the adults who were responsible, but failed me and others. Here is a poem about this time-of-life decades ago and my actual and factual innocence. And why these family members are in fact in danger of a grave sin if they continue to treat me as a bad person because of this. I have moved on and forgiven & forgotten the deeds of these aforementioned persons; and my family members who call themselves "Christian" should also forgive and forget. Yet they do not seem to be in a true state of grace. I am concerned that their hearts are hardening. I hope and pray this will not become a permanent hardening all the way to their grave. Hear my prayer Lord.
In youth's bright hours, where dreams unfold,
I penned a letter, brave and bold.
I spoke of shadows, cast too long,
Of adult missteps, so stark, so wrong.
Their actions flawed, their choices frail,
Left me adrift, alone to sail.
Yet as I wrote of their mistake,
My words were twisted, truth to break.
Some saw my plea as guilt confess'd,
A tale of fault, of wrong addressed.
But how could I, so young, so small,
Bear the weight of their grand fall?
It wasn't I who steered astray,
But hands of grown-ups, lost in fray.
Their guidance lacked, their path unclear,
Left me to navigate, in fear.
My letter, meant to shed the light,
On failings great, that felt so tight.
Yet misread hearts took it as blame,
A tarnished truth, a marred old name.
I sought to heal, to clear the haze,
To voice the pain, the broken days.
But tangled in the words I wrote,
They saw me as the troubled boat.
In youthful eyes, the adults' deeds,
Were shadows cast, like thorny weeds.
I wasn't wrong; I wasn't lost,
Their errors came at a great cost.
So let the truth now shine, reveal,
It was their actions, not my zeal.
In tender years, I bore no blame,
It's grown-up hands that marred the game.
THEREFORE:
To family who judge with a harsh, knowing scorn,
Beware of the sins that your harshness adorn.
For if you persist in your cruel, unfair stance,
You risk grave missteps with each judgmental glance.
The past is a shadow that none can undo,
Yet blame on a child is a grave sin to rue.
Forgive and release, let compassion take hold,
Or bear the stark weight of a judgment too bold.
For hearts that are hardened by anger and spite,
Are blinded to justice, and stray from the light.
Heed this gentle warning, lest guilt weigh you down,
In the grace of forgiveness, let healing be found.
