POETRY | SELF-REFLECTIONS | FORGIVENESS
A Sense of Forgiveness Feels Like This
Free Verse
I’ve seen and felt occurrences beyond my
understanding that won’t ever satiate
my curiosity. But I’m still a part of them.
Because I’m with them. Each day.
The sky I can see, the breeze I can’t.
Existence of a Higher Presence I can feel but can’t prove:
“the eternity of it that forces me to be more forgiving,
that warns me that I’ll only be leaving light traces of
my kindness and not gravels of grudges.”
Like pale and strong striations on our nails with
the passing of time, we are strong, with imperfections.
And imperfections are fine, not intentional hurts.
I’ve held on my own during not-so-easy times, damaged by
upsetting words and wounding actions of people close/distant.
I’ve felt bruised when held liable for things I wasn’t.
Surrounded by toxic waters, I had to blot them out.
It took time to forgive such toxicities, though that sinister
fogginess I felt when blotting them out will…
