Oh if only... Oh if only I had been as good
as I once thought myself...
I'd be in heaven by now.
If I were half as good as I imagined
Deluded as I was...
Not so now.
The sins of ages past remain imprinted
as a wrinkle on a brow.
Like nicotine stained fingers,
the faint smell lingers.
I feel the pain
and the sorrow that such folly wrought.
Sins forgiven, not so easily forgot.
I hold this bitter treasure in my trove.
Lest sometime I should grow over-bold
And pride raise my head too far aloft.
I'll crack the lid and snatch a glance inside the box,
then slam it shut!
Tis enough. Tis enough tonight,
To bring me back to where I am but little
in my own sight.
Paul McFate February 2007
On Easter, I thought it appropriate to publish this poem about repentance, although I have to say, it is less hopeful than an Easter poem should be. I don't recommend this perspective for women. Men need a little hard medicine now and then to keep them humble.
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