The still of early morning breaks
when, in the effort to digest
the evening’s overconsumption,
spasms clench my gut and stir me
to the cusp of sleep. There unsought
shadows of my failures greet me:
come again to shame, to haunt me.
Bitterly they rise and lurch from
memory into awareness,
one by one, then all together
they cascade into a torrent
pricking remorse with reminder
how deeply I depend on grace.
October 9, 2011
Shire on the Hudson