The Cost of Sight

I.

We have lived so long

in our own light

we’ve forgotten it isn’t the sun 

We’ve polished our reflections

until they looked like righteousness—

certainty as revelation 

comfort as covenant 

our tribe as truth 

And somewhere in the glow

we went blind.

II.

I know this much 

God has never drawn the lines

we keep redrawing 

Not by color  

not by class  

not by who we refuse to understand 

Jesus is not the mascot

of our imagined persecutions 

not the blue‑eyed sentinel

of our national pride 

He is the Shepherd

who leaves the ninety‑nine

to find the one

we keep losing— 

on purpose 

III.

Sin is sin—

mine 

yours 

ours 

not a scoreboard 

or hierarchy 

never a weapon 

Repentance is not apology—

it is turning 

unlearning 

Mercy costs— 

the need to be right 

the armor

the hardness

Judge without mercy

and you lose the very thing

you cannot live without 

IV.

Some stopped listening already 

Some read only to confirm

their suspicions 

Some will call this weakness 

Some will call it rebellion 

But I am still reaching—

heart cracked 

hands open 

vision clearing 

I can be disappointed

and still love you 

disheartened

and still love you 

cast me aside,

and I will keep loving you 

V.

This is the cost of sight 

to see clearly—

in a world that prefers mirrors 

To love without applause 

To speak without armor 

To walk without the shelter

of the ninety‑nine 

To stand in the light

that exposes us all

and still name it grace

© Ron Simpson Jr.