I pass a stranger at the grocery store,
she walks with a backpack on.
The contents contained inside that sack,
are judgments, pro and con.

Later that morn, I take a long walk
and glimpse a homeless man.
He too has a sack fixed upon his back
as he wanders from plan to plan.

Now it’s time to meet a dear friend
for coffee or perhaps some tea
I enter the café and meet her eyes
but her backpack is all that I see.

Why can’t I see them as they are –
without such judging thought?
What keeps my eyes from seeing pure,
what God’s hand truly wrought?

Could the answer be that I as well
have a backpack on myself?
Filled with past conditioning
stored on a dusty old shelf.

How will I ever see and accept
all people for who they are,
if I carry that sack upon my own back
and view the moment afar.

My backpack must be removed by grace
even though I hold it dear.
I need to see with eyes anew
this moment crystal clear.

For if I can’t, I’ll never know
The truth revealed to me.
For in, above and through us all,
divine light through eyes that see.

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