Sonnet

We prove we are God’s servants.
By great suffering in times of distress.
Deep down in our psyche is disturbance.
Wounds fester there, hidden, let’s confess.

A small event, inconsequential rips away the sticking plaster.
Feeling, resentment or worse boils over, all is bleak.
And then into our shell we retreat further and further.
We find it impossible to turn the other cheek.

Our resentment does not hurt the other or make him broke.
It wounds only ourselves, if only we knew.
If he takes our tunic we will not give our cloak.
If he orders us to go one mile we will not go two.

But that’s easy to say, and alright for the few.
So difficult for the many and me to do.

Haiku

Turn the other cheek
Yes but it’s so hard to do
So we carry on