Shackled

While working through a process of forgiveness,
I realized that my notion of granting “said grace”
was tied to a kind of reward – punishment scenario.
There seemed to be this lingering thought
that all would be evened up in the end. 
 
Somewhere in the back of my mind,
I was still looking for a payment,
when it occurred to me,
I couldn’t leave until I let go.
 
I felt like I was the one in shackles.
“But wait,” I thought, “I’m not the one on trial!”
 
although, in an odd sort of way, it seemed that I was
both the prisoner and the jailer all rolled into one;
a prisoner held hostage at the length of his arm,
by his own inability to let go;
with no shackle around his wrist,
only fingers around the object of desire.
 
After a moment of contemplation, I decided to let go,
move on, and say a prayer for the other fellow’s freedom. 
Suddenly the whole world changed.

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