He kneels before me both arms wide

begging for clemency again—

like he didn’t know the pay plan.

–

eyes trained on me, as if I’m tied

to some special code of kindness,

overriding sense with blindness,

–

as if some mercy should divide

him from his failures, change his ways,

forgive his debts for all his days.

–

my own rights from my wounded pride

cannot allow this parasite

to claim the grace that’s not his right.

.  .  .

.  .  .

My demands cannot be applied

when I owe infinitely more

once myriad debts, now settled score.

–

when looking at the One who died

no mercies asked seems out of place.

My wrath relents. I kneel. Embrace.