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Ash 53m
Father, forgive me for dressing myself in the shackles that you tore off.
Father, forgive me for trying to bear past burdens along with your cross.
Father, forgive me for breaking waves when you asked me to tread water.
Father, forgive me for wearing Shame when you already bought her.
Sam 2h
I stared at you,
a cold empty face.
You didn't have much time for me,
and nothing much to say.

You never really touched me,
and if you did you made it hurt.
With spite you said I remind you of him,
I felt to blame, but wasn't sure.

Was it my fault when you left?
Because you never said goodbye.
Yet you took the others with you,
and the soul of a small boy died.

Strangely as I grew older,
you relied on me the most.
I kept trying to earn your love,
to bleed affection from a ghost.

With my early twenties scattered,
I couldn't pinpoint how I felt.
I was broken and alone,
while juggling shards of shattered self.

As time progressed I began to heal,
and put myself in a better place.
I understand too much to hate you,
But I don't have much to say.

I know the pain you went through,
that you were damaged from the start.
A lonely child you were too,
with missing pieces of your heart.

I couldn't bring myself to do to you,
the things you did to me.
To perpetuate that awful cycle,
so forgiveness set me free.

Forgiveness is a habit,
not a singular event.
Sometimes past words and actions
muster up my soul's lament.

But through it all you're still my heart,
and that's not an easy pill to swallow.
But I won't live life filled with resentment,
we're not guaranteed tomorrow.

I remember the night I danced with you,
Such Great Heights, Iron and Wine.
I wanted you to know that I could love you through it all.
I will give more than I was given, dearest mom of mine.
IvS 19h
Heart
The muscle that fails me
Everytime I try to scape
Pretending I don't even care

Last time I see your face
Old memories awake
What did we make?
Happiness is a teardrop away

Wait.
Let love consume this hate
It must have been fate
Forget about let's embrace this chance
That love just made.
Part of a writing challenge
I’m always first
to forgive—
even when
there’s no apology
even when
it’s not deserved

Yet why is it so hard
to forgive myself?
even when
I’m in need of it
even when
I’m always sorry

(I’m sorry to myself)
(I’m sorry to myself)
(I’m sorry to myself)
I really am sorry.
Channel all your pain
to the summoned fields of my sun-baked heart

let me be your long-suffering, xeriscaping soil
--once rain-fed by this love--

now as parched as
Atacama

the plateau where we bowed our heads
and pleaded for mere drops of forgiveness
BLT's new challenge- to write a poem using the Merriam- Webster word of the day, xeriscape.
preston 5d

You are screaming at me and I'm in tears
your face peeled back
in deep contempt of my need
I am just a little boy and my head hurts and it
is a sin to hope that my aspirin could be cut

because I can't swallow the pills and they get
stuck in my throat, burning. My head is
spinning

and I'm falling down, a shaken baby
syndrome..
black around my eyes--
which one of you shook me?
Who did this to me, I'm just a little boy
peaceful in heart,
yet horror stricken; and the anger builds
Unexpressed words defining injustice, are
swallowed

once again, deeper:    evil excels in its clothing
a child in shame, within the denial of its own wrongdoing.
Years of hard work, dismantle the shame..
remove condemnation's heavy, mantle;
but this rage.. this deeply embedded injustice-scream?
A lifetime has not enough years to undo what
the locusts have eaten

And I am only half of it...
a ***** in my armor, and I fall
A cheap shot, my hands now empty
the fire of my temple, now dust..

Lay me there, beside her--
she, that tore me down, she who I now
forgive
a beautiful boy, a broken son
in death, makes his peace with mom
his burial place, once again
back, in her arms

This is the home I choose
I forgive you, Momma, be my resting-place now,
my home--

my anger, my hatred.. contempt
purged, by cremation's holy fire
all glory and honor,  now yours

as the once-broken little boy
curls up safely, in your arms
Your beautiful son has returned,
back home:

     God.. and a mother's love,
                             rest his soul.

hell is for children
https://youtu.be/YEf00GC1rlQ
I pray for forgiveness
I know I do not deserve
but forget
that I have already been
forgiven
There it lays,
my tear soaked
pillow case.

In clouds unseen
where they visit me
every night since thirteen

What am I to do
with no avenue to pursue
when they deny my inhibitions
and tell them they're forgiven?

I see what I can't change and
I can't change what I see

I want to want their vision
of tender, loving, harmony
but it feels like swallowing poison
treating my actions remorsefully.

I take each day
one at a time
unyielding to divulge
what comes to me as I lay
every night
on my tear soaked pillow case.
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