Blame Cost Me - Dearly

For half my life I would not see

how blame had made a fool of me.

I blamed and blamed but little thought

what pain this habit to me had brought.

At every wound, at every fall,

I found a name, I found them all

- the ones who left, the ones who lied,

the ones who saw me hurt - and hide.

It felt like strength. It felt like 'sight'.

I told myself 'my anger's right'.

For years I carried, stone on stone,

a weight I swore was not my own.

I held each name, I kept the score,

Yet wondered -

why my heart stayed sore.

The blaming eased not a single ache,

it only kept the hurt awake.

And one by one, with each new face,

I stored the wounds in that bitter place.

Then one slow day I stopped, and saw

the hand that held the open sore

was mine -

How then, I had to stop and ask:

Could I really lay on them the task

The blame, the fault, the endless score,

When I had built the cage, and more -

Had locked myself, and chucked the key,

Then pointed fingers, 'they imprisoned me'.

And gently, scared, I let the blame fall I trembled -

But loosed the weight of it all

I was tired. I was done.

That blame?

Had cost me plenty, helped me none.

And oh! the lightness when it lifts

You feel the weight only when it shifts.

I see it clear now. I know my part -

And bear no shame. I've freed my heart.

I now walk gently, I now walk light,

No load to carry day and night.

And when, sometimes, the old names call

I let them pass. I'm done.

That's all.

I've freed myself. I've won the war -

the only one worth fighting for.