I forgive . . .
my boss for not understanding about depression,
my mother-in-law for not understanding my children,
myself for not being perfect.
I forgive . . .
my sister’s husband for molesting me when I was a teen,
my sister for not leaving him when I told her,
myself for not telling sooner,
I forgive . . .
the teenager next door for molesting me when I was five,
my mother for not noticing that I was out of her sight,
myself for being ashamed for so many years.
Forgiveness . . .
bathes my spirit with healing poultice,
expunges poison from gaping wounds,
provides a balm for my weary soul.
Forgiveness . . . .
stings and growls in reluctant acceptance,
offers more than carefully chosen words,
slowly works its medicinal cures.
Forgiveness . . .
begins with loving myself,
reaches out to both stranger and kin,
gives me freedom to live in the present,
Pat Nelson
June 19, 2008
Re-worked July 7, 2011
Author's Note: First Place in Inner Child Contest with the prompt of forgiveness
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