The air hangs heavy with words unspoken,
a weight pressing between hearts.
Eyes meet, searching for bridges,
but the ground beneath shifts and crumbles.
Forgiveness looms, a towering shadow,
its promise both refuge and demand.
To reach it is to release the hurt,
but the hurt clings, sharp and alive.
In its place lies pride,
coiled and watchful,
the keeper of wounds that ache for tending.
To forgive feels like surrender,
a denail of what was lost,
of what was taken.
And yet, without it,
the road remains blocked,
the future a landscape unreachable.
When forgiveness stands in the way,
hearts must choose-
to break open or remain sealed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem