Apparently she’s not allowed to make mistakes.
If she does it will be frowned upon as if she’s the one who arranged the cutting of Samson’s hair.
“I would have never expected that from you.” they say.
Well allow her to go back and make up for her wrongs.
But shes asking for too much.
She should never have fallen short in the first place.
“I thought you knew better.” they say.
The thing with perfectionism is that eventually it is not only you expecting no flaws.
The ones around you begin to dictate where you are allowed to go wrong.
“You are supposed to be more mature than that.” they say.
For it is not enough for her to carry the weight of the world.
She must adopt your expectations as law.
To be held high.
With honest regard.
For reverence was the image they bestowed upon her.
But the pedestal has become imbalanced.
“I expected more from you.” they say.
“Shush, shush, shush.” she says.
Please silence the noise.
I did not ask to be placed above being human.
I never asked to be idolized as better than flesh.
For being good, doing good, and falling short is not inherently wrong.
But you must make a mockery of my attempts.
Place unfair scales in front of my face that they spoke against in Proverbs 11
“When did glory become hell?” she says.
For it was never my place to be awarded such reverence at this age.
To be expected to embody such wisdom so young.
Is my name Miriam to you?
Did I arrange the nursing of my brother too soon?
I wonder if I begin to step down from your pedestal if I’ll be closer to heaven?
I wonder if hell was never beneath me?
