Forgiveness isn't, "I'll forgive you,
if you'll forgive me,"
its a symphony of lilacs in the
springtime fields,
and a song from the wren's
delicate heart,
its when you awaken after a
bitter night of anger melted
into tiredness, and moments
of grief turned to lavender
scented pillows lulling you
into a resplendent dream,
of white doves ascending to
Heaven carrying whispers
of the world praying,
as little workers in your mind
build a bridge of steel cables
of peace forged by God,
whether there's reunion with
those you've forgiven, or not.