A Wigwam for a Goose's Bridle

Forgive me. Like an animal
that cannot learn, I fall
again into the hole
that claims me each time I pass.
At least now I know
to clutch
at
the
rim
as I fall, so it is easier
to be pulled out.
And yet, I have not learnt
to sidestep. Forgive me.
It seems the more I try
to walk safely,
to watch my footing,
to follow the light,
the wider and deeper and blacker
the hole, and the harder I fall.
I blush, for I am embarrassed
by this repeated blunder.
Each time, Your patience,
as You extend a hand
to pull me out, is incredible.
Forgive my continual need
for this, forever taking up
Your valued time. Forgive me.
Each time, You remind me
where I went wrong. How
I misread the map, neglected
to follow the clear and simple
directions. I do not expect
You to rescue me this time
and yet I know You will
though I do not deserve it.
Your generosity makes me
aspire to greater things. I
promise to try to keep hold
of Your hand next time, to
stop trying to choose the path,
to listen to the warning signals.
For now, forgive me.