Forgiveness

The Intertwining

Relationships end,
by the silent selfish decisions
we make in secrecy and
carve into the stone.

You say it first to yourself,
tattoo it on your partner’s heart,
but the words linger
like a burden they were
never intended to bear.

A moment’s space,
a breath of air,
becomes a gulf
unintentionally carved.

We hear stories of bonds
blessed and unbroken,
a melody composed
by numerous harmonious voices.

One truth sings:
Two souls traveling together,
hand in hand,
even across desolate areas,
discover that the landscape
is shifting and that
there is a constant dance
of motion and stillness.

It is the rhythm of life itself:
the steady beat,
the comforting rest,
the sleep that revives,
the shelter shared in common,
the roots that tie.

It is the courage to say
the truth of your senses:
the colors that stain your portrait,
the scents that stir your remembrance,
the emotions that beat within,
the thoughts that form your world.

Are these given,
shared with the waiting ear,
the seeing eye?

And is your partner visible,
known in their own right?

Is it not the intertwining of moments,
the micro and the macro,
that forge the strongest ties?

The treasure is not
in running away from demons,
but in walking together through them,
hand in hand,
to the dawn of day.

The path has been trod
by many feet.
Seek wisdom in those
who have trod before you,
embrace the solace of solitude,
the healing power of forgiveness,
the strength of connection,
the softness of compassion,
the unwavering hand of grace,
the quiet certainty of faith,
the boundless ocean of love,
and the simple gift of self.

And have your stories told,
by ears that truly hear,
by eyes that truly see.

Filed under: 🜂 Other – reflecting on connection, relationships, and the spaces between souls.
Stubborn Grace

A stubborn beast
with its feet firmly planted
in the muddy field
of my own errors.

Anguish is a dense fog
that swirls, blinds, and steals
the recognizable features
of my own soul.

The birdsong was a distant,
inaudible hum,
and fingers brushed
against petals
that had once been vibrant
but were now dull and quiet.

Indeed, forgiveness is a river
that churns through rocky terrain,
a constant murmur
against jagged edges,
finds the yielding ground,
and forges a new path.

Or rain, a gentle veil
dissolving the grime
that adheres to my skin,
a clean canvas waiting
for a fresh day.

Seasons change, my friend,
leaves unfold, then fall,
and the only thing that
accompanies this long journey
is the steady, slow rhythm
of our own two feet—
possibly a shimmering wand.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
Beyond Judgement

Don’t mistake judgment for knowing.
Don’t confuse lack of judgment
with weakness.

Before you know someone,
you must first know
and forgive yourself.
Then you shall
be blessed
to know another.
And when you do,
you forgive.

How can we
receive and give,
freely and genuinely,
if we stubbornly block
with a judgment passed—
given or received?

Is it possible
to truly live,
without dignity?

What we take
from others,
we take away
from ourselves first.
What we give others,
we give ourselves first.

Forgiveness doesn’t appear
after judgment;
it is always prior.
A choice.
It is innocence matured.
And clarity
lights the path
toward forgiveness.

Don’t let the grace
of forgiveness
slip past
your awareness.
Don’t remain attached
to the wrong relationships.
Show up
and be present.

We can’t grow—
if our bodies get older,
yet mentally, emotionally,
and spiritually we are
at a standstill in time.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
The Invitation

Do you see
the wounds on arms?
Is forgiveness revealed?
Has polarity forged a path—
a space between to dance?

When we shut our doors
and close access to ourselves
for those we love,
it’s not because we
fear them.
It is because
we fear ourselves.

We lace our secrets with poison
to prevent them from
sprouting into the light,
hoping they’ll die.

The shameful feeling
of our past choices haunts us,
for we have not learned
the lessons,
and have not changed
and grown,
to realize what
we’ve become.

Thinking of others,
knowing myself,
a life is lived.
I arrived naked,
and I’m leaving naked.
What we hear
is what we get.

Not perfect
without imperfections
and mistakes.
Complete and
wholesome by trial.

I strived for kindness
and love.
Accepted both my challenges
and my gifts.

I met magical people—
each, a teacher.
Misunderstood, I walked.
Welcomed but not embraced.

Pick up your true relationship,
and throw it up
towards the light.
Step outside your box,
and into the free
open horizon.
Rise from beneath the earth
to soar above.
It will lift you up
by its strings
that are bonded
with you.

At the end of this excursion
and its expedition of light,
Death prowls in
with a cordial welcome.
Like an amiable, genial host
for all of us who instinctively
and involuntarily
receive his faded invitation
at the moment of our birth.

His long-anticipated alleviation
comes startlingly,
only to hit us
with the certainty
of a sacred approach.
As we emerge
into his loyal audience,
and he into our past,
our new navigator.

We instantly exit
and we enter,
another ingredient
of who we are.
—The cook prepares the feast—
The clarity
of this new mode announces
the fearless recurrence
with jubilation.

I will not resist.
I forgive myself.

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.
Love in Justice

Love in justice is
Restoration for the wrong,
Self for the right.

Filed under: 🜂 Other – reflecting on connection, relationships, and the spaces between souls.
Wrap Your Arms Around You

Wrap your arms around you
Give yourself a warm hug
You may be grown up and old
But inside you’re still a child

You’ve passed the station
Of asking no more
And you’ve arrived to a stop
Of not wanting what you need

You love many
And you are loved
But the devil’s footsteps quietly approach
Through the people you love

How can one survives in this world
Without declaring their wants and needs?
With others falsely knowing and
Speaking words that claim your needs?

How can you live
By feeling the need to ask?
When will the uninvited devil walk in?
When will the body rest?

Giving is a gift, not everyone feels

Flooding out of them
Saving and possessing is a curse,
That most feel occupied with

Who is a more willing soul
Than an earth angel
To pay for the wrongs and hurt
That others infected on you

Mother, what would become of me?
Father, where will I be?
Brother, what do you see?
Sister, how do you feel?

You came whole
They broke you
Wrap your arms around your whole self
Feel warmth of your complete embrace

Deep breath

Filed under: 🜁 Self – tracing the inner landscapes of thought, feeling, and becoming.