I can only imagine it.
You ask me for it —
I deny you three times.
The cock crows.
what there is to forgive,
and you forgive, like always, yourself.
I'm there —
I half expect to be killed
by things you have done,
yet live on.
There must be muteness in it —
harm choked on,
all this injury cast up in bones and fossil.
Clouds sailed away.
if you could,
but what if you can't —
the trick is to believe
your own story,
accident is needed for some kinds of change.
I never forgive
and that's how I recognize it.
By what I don't do
and can't, but must,
I know what it is.
all things do
what they have to
FORGIVENESS AND LUCK
It's a streak of luck,
a comet that lands
in the middle of what was
and what is
and blots it all out —
it's more than repression,
a new world.
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Comments about this poem (Forgiveness by Ioanna Carlsen )
- To My Love, dr.k.g.balakrishnan kandangath
- Scrutinized As Being Abusive, Lawrence S. Pertillar
- Sting, Foster Teegarden
- Some Ghoul, Foster Teegarden
- the man of christmas, Faith Taylors
- My Description, Foster Teegarden
- Scared to love you, leanne royle
- Pain, leanne royle
- Human, Foster Teegarden
- Frienship, bryan wallace
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