Beth Fritsch
When the scales fell from Paul’s eyes
and he purportedly “fell off his horse”,
the ground that swelled up to meet him
was holy.
When the scales fell from my eyes
The stubborn horse
I was riding shot off at
breakneck speed, my own
fall to replicate.
The force of that hoofbeat stampede
stirred up a cloud of dust
swirling and twirling.
Parting that cloud left me
choking and sputtering, for much of that dust was rancid.
Nevertheless, some of it had to
be swallowed
(a task I won’t long to repeat).
But oh I have to tell you
when the dust cleared
and I stood upon the ground
others had also declared holy,
I could not believe the view
I was afforded.
Not only was the ground holy,
there I stood,
in transformed splendor, shining.
So completely different,
I found it necessary
to introduce myself again
to those who thought they knew me!