A Lesson in Forgiveness
what if i forgive myself
tonight, as dark inches closer
and my hands begin to unsettle.
what if i whisper into my skin,
it will be okay,
it will all be okay.
confession no I : the truth is i have never been
gentle to myself.
confession no II : the truth is i never learned how.
i begin to see the stars more clearly now,
cassiopeia hanging right above my head.
she is atonement. she is penance.
i think about all the mistakes i've made,
with everyone else,
most of all
i start teaching myself forgiveness.
because it's all i have left,
all that is left of me.
and i am so tired.
and the stars are looking down on me, all lost in their
dazed luminosity and they know everything about this.
my fingers are softer now, less edge, less claw.
there's still a softer kind of sadness in my chest, but the night
guides, not suffocates, and
like the sycamore tree outside my house
i've learned to stand
despite the pain.
Moana is a 19 year old Classics and English student from Germany. In her spare time she likes to write, to drink unreasonable amounts of coffee, and to linger around at local book stores.