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
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