With grace

With grace
we look upon ourselves
at twenty years of age,
“What fools,” we say,
“we were in youth,”
we’d seen nothing,
proved nothing,
and knew not patent lie
from truth.

Now, we won’t forgive ourselves,
no, not at this proficient age,
we’ve seen too much
and learned too much
to settle for excuses,
“If not clarity or wisdom,
what else is it
that Time produces?”

We lash our backs
in punishment
for every imperfection,
but decades hence
we’ll understand
our wise and weathered selves,
in truth,
had yet seen nothing,
yet knew nothing,
and wore the ignorance of youth.