mirrored stone

unconditional, no exceptions, pre-determined, irreversible

forgiveness

there's nothing anyone could ever do

to get a cold shoulder 

personally, it's comforting

as unconditional love tends to be

but externally, infuriating

and I'm trying to find a loophole

maybe while you wait in line, 

it looks like a forked road

so while you're waiting

you think there's two options

and before John Quiñones descends 

and ushers you upward, 

you and everyone else in line is read aloud

a dramatic reading

of every single moment

you defined unconditional as reward or restrictive

then forged divine signature

and wore it like a crown 

so fragile and decorative it afforded you a wide girth around the wounded traveler

would that not burn greater than fire?

would you not be begging Lazarus for a drink?

an assurance of pardon?

an escape from your lived boomerang?

isn't the whole point that you won't have to?

that it's freely given?

it would be hell on its own

you can’t tell people they’re wrong

not really

they either already know

or don’t believe you

it has to come from them

but then it’s unbearable

the moment before we're aware, 

like Adam and Eve were 

of every gruesome, horrific, intolerable

thing inside us 

are we saved from devastating inner-exposure?

and reminded instead of our overwhelming light, our priceless, irreversible goodness?

clearly, I'm not there

were I in my twisted line today, 

I think they'd read this poem aloud

itself a realization of the target of its stones