Ahhh, again this is one of those ‘no edits allowed’ pieces. It causes such pain for me as a writer (and a perfectionist) but screw it! I wrote without rereading and this is my blog sooo, where better to dump it onto the internet? Enjoy.
Pride
I remember being told that pride
Was the worst of all sin
Since pride cannot ever be
Overcome or
Redeemed
But, in our modernity,
We have all become animals of
Pride
A damaging pride which demands
Kindle for the flames of its solidarity
Bloodied and alone beneath
The weight of our sorrows
We profess our capability.
Rather be crushed than
Accept the extended hand
Is then weakness a sin?
It has become so.
Weakness
categorised by starving
Demons we cannot control
Pride too tall
casting a shadow beneath which we
Cower
Afraid to show our soft bellies
Even to our closest allies
My own pride manifests in a fierce
Independence.
Though I adore the weight of a head on my shoulder
Pride holds my head high
My own pain too feeble to fight
My back is straight
My façade resolute
But beneath,
Pride coils around my neck
And chokes the life from me
MMJ
This is an original poem written by Miriam Methuen-Jones.
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© Miriam Methuen-Jones and miriammj.com, 2018. Unauthorised use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Miriam Methuen-Jones and miriammj.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content. The author should be notified of any use of excerpts or original content.
