It seems such an innocent thing.
To watch and not take part.
To hover and see who wins
Then, unknown to my innards
To jockey for good position
In order to see how all this comes out.
Not rooting for or pulling against,
Just waiting for it all to pass by.
To blow over, really,
I’m above all this;
Never stoop to this sort of thing.
It will be over soon, I tell myself.
Then I feel a tug at my garment –
A pull on my conscience –
And suddenly, there I am
at the center of the fracas:
Beaten and bruised,
Battered and bloodied.
Not by. with.
This is not blowing over for these.
Then neither is it for us.
May it be said, “She has done what she could.” (Mark 14:8)
There is no such thing as an innocent bystander.