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I live in a small pueblo where every day or so

my neighbours sweep the pavement to keep

their side of the road clean and pick up the litter


And I like Beppo the Street Sweeper in Momo

by Michael Ende who always has the time

to speak a kind word to his legendary mates


Never liked to litter with trash rubbish or garbage

but I have cast words and actions upon my fellows

sometimes in anger and others in vulnerable pain

and they need not forget forgive or reward me

for my apologies must not sanction me with a medal

‘Purple Heart’ for my own suffering through the offence

which became a junk yard for wrong actions and speech


Life is short and wasteful memories can be long

but a short ‘I am sorry’ does not do any harm

as long as its honest and not for scoring immaculate

points on a spread sheet of blemishes and deceit


From my door step I voice ‘Hola’ and ‘Que pasa?’

to the little old ladies with the curlers and brooms

Dettol in hand and staggering steps in their stride

and wish to put my failings into the recycling bin

sanitize with truthful acceptance of my part in a toxic

environment that needs a tidy up before it sticks

like dog poo on a foul conscience and reeks havoc


‘Disculpe’ and ‘Lo siento’ as a tiny ‘mea culpa’

is simply an offer of truce not a white shiny flag

of capitulation or forced armistice under duress

but Peace and social encounters are tough enough

even without grievances and self-righteous pride


I can’t turn  into perfume and on some occasions

an ‘I beg your pardon’ was not granted the request

my appeal for friendship was rebuffed and thrown

straight back into my face with fierce vengeance

but more often than not a land fill site of regret was

granted a home for a sincere olive branch in the shelter

of simply doing the right thing as the best one can do


23rd May 2021
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