Regret

He sits on the tree stump chewing on a piece of raw hay. His posture hunched, his forearms resting on his bent knees. His fingers entwined, his thumbs moving in restless rhythms of continuous circles. He gazes over the rivers of wheat swaying in the wind, the endless rows so vivid he has to close his eyes against the continual flow with no end.

He sighs as he lowers his head pulling his hat over his eyes. For a time he shades his deplorable behavior with make-believe righteous actions. By hiding his eyes he can pretend to wipe out one of his greatest moments of regret. By lowering his head he admits to himself the wrong he did to another.

His regret eats at the center of his soul.

He has an inner conversation with himself trying to validate his deed of compulsive insensitivity. But he knows he not only caused pain to another he caused pain to himself.
Once acknowledged, he lifts his hat away from his eyes, raises his head wiping the sweat of regret from his brow, knowing the next steps he’ll trod will be cemented in forgiveness.

Maybe not to the person he showed his moment of deprived consciousness but he’ll learn to forgive himself.

If he wants to make his soul whole again he’ll learn..