I cannot shed old things

By looking back at dark mistakes.

And yet, they tug at my coat

And beg to be understood

As if I could figure them out.

But I can't figure them out.

They make no sense.

And when I try,

Dark clouds gather

And if I am not careful,

They portend doom from which

My mind must grapple to escape.

And so I don't look back.

I look forward to the bright light

Of all that He has promised.

I step into the sunshine,

And then into the sun,

Hot and scorching.

And it burns away the old.

But I do not notice

Accept in retrospect

That old things have fallen away.