The Forgiveness of Others

Warm, sticky hands palm off dry, self-centred ground, Touched by gingerly acclaiming seeds of new-borns: Ready, willing and eager for the harsh, expecting role, Supposedly not with any crudeness, brashness or horns; As we sit in it, my tears embrace his spritely youth, And I ask for forgiveness for my naive, vigorous misdeed: He secures me with his smile and instinctive composure, Such that I no longer trepidatiously have to sweat and bleed; Permanency fairly permeates my fearful, angered heart: The hope of someone else to tease the difficult, awkward task; My failure becomes his promise, and his foundation strong, So that the demand is no longer a mountainous, rocky ask. When you yourself cannot conquer the rough terrain, Your friends and lovers attend to take the strain. 2nd of October 2015