Sorry
In the flickering moments of my mortality
I am haunted in the dimming by a thought.
Did I do what I could to temper this reality?
Why did virtues supernal nag me for naught?
It’s too late to remedy failures of yore
Too late to tender countless apologies.
I’m afraid they perceive me at my core
And all too well know my chronologies.
My slights are aslant, extant in my sight,
More so now that I cannot make amends.
They conjure shadows where once was light.
Short seasons ago we were beloved friends.
Will, I whisper, a blanket “sorry” be okay,
Gasped in longer seconds twixt each breath.
Oh God, I pray my farewell fears it will allay
That they will know of my remorse ’ere death.
Copyright © Paul Schneiter | Year Posted 2015
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