Holding Forgiveness
Like a wounded warrior
who clings to battles
where souls were lost,
I used to think
forgiveness was elusive-
for me.
Yet,
I'm learning,
forgiveness seems to come
when you stop trying.
Though not overnight,
for sure.
No, the armor must peel away
one small, brittle piece
at a time-
all on its own.
Then, when you least expect it,
the hot storm of grief,
as familiar and a part of me
as the lines of age around my hazel eyes,
cracks open
like the fault lines of the earth,
revealing a spacious inner dwelling
of cool emptiness.
This expansive interior
is so breathtakingly vast,
yet so unknown,
and so unknowable.
As it was paradoxically
pure effortlessness that gave light
to the fiercely tender wholeness
of the human heart,
when it came brilliantly alive
to hold more pain and more sorrow
than I ever narrowly
imagined.
It could even hold,
it turns out,
forgiveness.
-Me
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