The year is ending.
Slowly days replay and readjust their meaning
into shadows of better and worse self.
I try to reject the possibilities
of my own wrong doing,
and yet, know
I shall repeat them if I do.
What to do?
Who shall I be?
Have I truly forgiven?
Have I been forgiven?
Is compassion real?
Does anyone hear… me?
Can I change?
Will I ?
And you… You in the mirror. You who the prayer is for.
You who I have struggled to give name to.
You who keeps me up at night.
You who has laughed at my weakness.
You who has grieved with the only tears I ee.
You who has tried to forget…
tried to forget.
Oh how I have tried to forget.
And in my forgetting, I cast shadows.
And now I sit with the rain tapping on the window of a broken life.
Bright pieces still cherished by those who know and believe.
Cellophane tape sticking out of corners and begging
in one way or another for forgiveness of sins
realized, intended and not intended.
Suffering with clarity, the life I have made.
What is this life I have made?