“Come to terms quickly with your accuser while you are on the way to court with him, or your accuser may hand you over to the judge, and the judge to the guard, and you will be thrown into prison. Truly I tell you, you will never get out until you have paid the last penny.
I don’t think in a straight line.
My thoughts lead to places unexpected,
That make no sense to the casual observer.
Tell me to put two and two together
And you may regret it, or at least walk away
Shaking your head, bewildered and frustrated.
In fact, my thoughts will do that for you —
Walk away shaking their heads, that is.
A brilliant idea will feel ill at ease, unwelcome and unwanted.
The Savior says, “Come to terms quickly with your accuser.”
This morning, original thoughts, feeling broken and betrayed,
Stare at me from the mirror, attempting reconciliation.
“Your accuser will hand you over to the judge,” the Savior continues,
I glance at that lonely original thought, whose accusing eyes brim over,
And my stony heart melts.
“Come to terms quickly with your accuser,” Jesus continues,
“Or you will be thrown into prison.”
By now, I’ve opened a notebook
And write the beginnings of a story
That may or may not make sense to every reader.
“You will never get out until you have paid the last penny,”
My Lord says.
By now, the words are tumbling onto the page,
Singing and skipping and keeping up perfectly well
With my zigzagging logic.
The fine is erased from the books
And the prison door is flung open,
Unable to hold back the colors, sounds and smells
Of free thinking.