The Ministress' Black Veil

A veil to hide one’s face from view, is this not what I’ve done?

To make something appear as other than what it is?

Black, for the reflected objects thrown between the eyes beneath

And the veil before. Black, for the times they refused to shine.

Black. Because there was a time they could not see at all.

Redemption is the story in reverse, all tragedy so.

Once I was blind, but now I see. Once I could see, but now am blind.

How do you find your place in life when you aren’t sure of which direction you face?

One mind becomes another when we change it, but

Until it changes again, we can never know how it was wrong.

Any mind we are in is the right one, regardless of right,

Because any mind we are in is the only one we can see.

How could I, God, how could I have been so wrong?

Is the mantra of the blind made to see, or do they?

Change is the only constant; they will always see something more!

Or less, perhaps? Because who can tell, fickle humans?

Perhaps we are all always reaching toward the light, or at least ought to

And with each handful of earth we excavate as we crawl on hand and knee

We are apt to think, this is the one! The last barrier to my sight!

Only to find that mountains lay before us yet in their might, majesty

This clod of earth was childhood, this was high school, this

Was anorexia, this was depression, this was failure, this was

Illness, this was fear, this was those who stood in our way, they

Are behind us now. Because something is hard is never a reason to quit trying,

The opposite is true. For the child learning to walk, for the boy shrugging

Off the bully, for the girl cramming food down her unwelcoming throat,

If they were to stop trying, their struggles will have not only been fruitless

They will have been destructive. In this way, traveling toward the light

Is so closely related to delving in to the dark it is difficult to distinguish.

They are veiled, but not in iniquity. Only to shade their faces from the onslaught

Of dirt raining down upon them from before, the landslide

That threatens to push them back to the start. But these

Are the times, the times when holding on seems most impossible,

That it is most important. And maybe those of us who have it “easy”

Should spend a little less time kicking dirt behind us,

And a little more looking out for who is there. Which applies to all;

Behind every climber is another in the unending human chain

Behind every veil is another pair of eyes that long to see