The foundation on which my true self has been built
Is shaky to the degree that the bricks forming it are lies.
Part of the bedrock supporting my pride is silt;
I want one to know only truth upon gazing in these eyes.
When Jorge asked if I am a schemer and a liar
The answer must truthfully be, “indeed.”
Thus the strivings toward authenticity are mired:
The lush garden of my self does grow weeds.
Years ago I told a black, bold-faced lie to my teacher
One who believed me out of great trust and kindness.
I thank luck or God above I was able to reach her,
To prostrate myself in hopes of her forgiveness.
Much has changed since those troubled days of youth;
I suffered and evolved into a man who is more real.
No longer the boy who told such untruths,
No longer part of the future are those days, I feel.
Recent strivings to become more whole and aware
Involving sobering truth and the will to be strong
Does account for the reason I have to come to care
If the person who took me on my word knows my wrong.
“Toward More Authentic Knowledge of Myself” © Jason Merchey 2000-2017