I turned on the news tonight, and saw a familiar face
Maya Angelou speaks of Nelson Mandela
“His day is done, our skies are leadened.”

It hit me then,

Forgiveness is more than  “Oh…it’s okay…”

If a man, a single freed prisoner, can change a whole country,
can forgive oppression, and depression, and apartheid brutality,
Forgiveness is not simple.

Sorry is not simple.
It’s a chance, to open the door to redemption,
Entire countries have forgiven the inhumanity of the past,
And yet all of us, each day,
Become angry for such small matters.

If nations can rebuild,
If Polish person can love a German
After the Holocaust,
We CAN forgive.

Forgiveness is the key to our self-imposed prisons.

I'm going to spend the rest of my life trying to write poetry that grows sunflowers in hearts like what grew in mine when I was with you

lonely as a dry and used orchard
spread over the earth
for use and surrender.

shot down like an ex-pug selling
dailies on the corner.

taken by tears like
an aging chorus girl
who has gotten her last check.

a hanky is in order your lord your
worship.

the blackbirds are rough today
like
ingrown toenails
in an overnight
jail---
wine wine whine,
the blackbirds run around and
fly around
harping about
Spanish melodies and bones.

and everywhere is
nowhere---
the dream is as bad as
flapjacks and flat tires:

why do we go on
with our minds and
pockets full of
dust
like a bad boy just out of
school---
you tell
me,
you who were a hero in some
revolution
you who teach children
you who drink with calmness
you who own large homes
and walk in gardens
you who have killed a man and own a
beautiful wife
you tell me
why I am on fire like old dry
garbage.

we might surely have some interesting
correspondence.
it will keep the mailman busy.
and the butterflies and ants and bridges and
cemeteries
the rocket-makers and dogs and garage mechanics
will still go on a
while
until we run out of stamps
and/or
ideas.

don't be ashamed of
anything; I guess God meant it all
like
locks on
doors.

Time and again we all get hurt and the truth is it takes long to heal. So yes, the world is full of people who are secretly nursing the wounds that were inflicted upon them. Some of these wounds they got from friends, some from strangers some from family and other wounds, believe it or not, are self-imposed.

We are often quick to get angry and we do not even think twice before we point fingers and blame others for the wounds they caused but what about the wounds we inflicted ourselves with? What do we then do upon the realisation of self-created hurt and pain we orchestrated ourselves?

There are times when one absent-mindedly digs themself a hole to fall in, sets themself a trap to be caught in or lays a bed of thorns to lay on. Reality only sinks in when the pain is felt and the pain one feels from what they did is way less compared to the hurt they get upon the realisation of the fact that they are the reason for that pain.

People hurt us, life goes on, we learn to get over it but what about when you hurt yourself???
The answer is quite simple: Forgive yourself but the implementation of the answer is a different story altogether.

A best friend is someone who loves you
You can tell them all of your secrets
They listen to all of your stories

A best friend is someone who accepts you
Someone who supports you
A person who treats you special

A best friend is someone you look forward to seeing
You laugh with them
You wish you could spend eternity with them

A best friend is something everyone needs to have
Someone who never judges you
Someone who respects you

A best friend is someone not feared
Someone who does not make you cry
They won't put you down

A best friend does not say hurtful things
They do not ignore you when you speak
They apologize when they are in the wrong

A best friend should not be intimidating
You are supposed to feel comfortable
You should be able to talk about everything

So what do I call you?

You say you love me
But you have disrespected me

You make me fearful
You hurt my feelings

I bow down to you
Because I do not want you to be angry

What are you to me?

If you are ever to read this
Take it to heart
I am not brave enough to say these words aloud

Because I am scared of you
And that's not fair
Read the first line again

She is my best friend
The one girl who has always loved me and never left me
My side kick in crime
We stalk the cold streets at night
She has held my hand she has wiped my tears and
She has kissed me on my cheek endless times
Showing up at her doorstep ****** and crying
Had another fight at the house
She never judged me
She is there for me an I am there for her
We know no different
From punk kids to young adults
We still howl at the moon
When were drunk and not giving a ****
She is my best friend
The one I can count on when things in life
When things in my life don't seem right
I am her best friend
I have held her hand I have wiped her tears and
I have kissed her on the cheek endless times
When she is feeling lost and hopeless
She gives me a call
I fly I run I transport
I'm there
We are best friends til death do us apart

Dear Best friend,

You know who you are. You are the beautiful girl in the back of the class, who keeps to herself, but is still strangely likable. You are the girl with the piercing blue eyes and dark, dark sense of humor.

Dear Best Friend,

I know you literally are always willing to listen, whether it is talking about our mutual crush on that guy in our favourite class, or complaining about society, or my parents, or when I just need to talk about the weather to distract myself from the looming fear of everything going wrong.


Dear Best Friend,

I still remember when you first told me about your depression. I had always sort of known, but hearing you say it out loud, I honestly didn’t know what to do, because I don’t want you to end up like me, I don’t want you to feel like you have to turn to sharp inanimate objects, I don’t want your world to be dark, hopeless, I don’t want you to fall because depression is a slippery *****, trust me. I don’t want you to forever be broken. I don’t want you to be scared.

I just don’t want you to end up as ****** up as me.

Dear Best Friend,

I know I’m not perfect, I’m not even close, and I ***** up... A lot. But I will do what ever I can to ALWAYS be there for you. I will always be the dorky, idiotic, annoying sidekick.

Dear Best Friend,

You are beautiful, don’t let anyone, ever tell you otherwise. Especially not some 12 year old boy with a stupid haircut.

You are short, there is no denying that, but so is Billie Joe Armstrong and we still think he is the hottest thing since wood stoves.

You have blue eyes, that I know you think are weird, but they are like oceans only not as dark.

Your hair is almost as straight as the members in half the bands we listen to, but each curl falls in it’s own special place

You are beautiful, stunning, breath-taking, and every other synonym for that word.

Dear Best Friend,

I’m sorry you have to put up with me when I am like this. I know I should just bottle it up, but for whatever reason it always seems like I can’t stop the words from escaping. I’m sorry, I am so so sorry that you have to deal with me.

Dear Best Friend,

I really want to smack you upside the face with a brick sometimes. But I won’t, because I am more scared of you hitting back than I am of doctors (and that’s saying something)

Dear Best Friend,

I promise that I will always be there as long as you need me, whether it’s in the middle of the night or when I am thousands of miles away with timezone barriers between us, just call me. When you are scared, call me. When what you are scared of is yourself, call me. When you need a friend, call me. When you want to gush about your new boyfriend, call me. When you want to just chat, call me.

Dear Best Friend,

At this point I think of you more like a sister that a friend.

So, Dear Sister, I love you so much. Thank you for showing me that even the darkest nights have a sunrise, and that those sunrises are always the most spectacular.