This is my last post in a series; Forgiveness in progress
Another post card in the mail.
For a moment there, you had me on a nail.
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Until I used my brain instead of my heart.
Do you enjoy tearing things apart?
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Ace didn’t write that.
How many times have you thrown a spat,
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‘cause cursive isn’t taught in school any more?
Yelp, you had me on a hook. For sure.
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Use Ace to get to me, manipulation at its finest. Wouldn’t you agree?
I would think a different form of communication would be more of a guarantee?
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Forgive? I can do that.
Healing takes time. There is so much for me to combat.
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Some wounds I will carry for the rest of my life.
What about that strife?
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Not everything was bad.
Which just makes me sad.
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This doesn’t open any line of communication.
I have not reached that station.
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Dialogue can change everything.
Are you open to the storm that could bring?
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I don’t think either of us are.
Me by far.
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Would you even listen?
Try to understand my position?
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I haven’t found that place.
Still shoveling out a space.
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From the 4 stages of forgiveness, I’m still identifying all the hurt.
My childhood is a brown hole full of dirt.
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Our whole family is a jacked up mess.
Manipulation, attention seeking, hot mess stress.
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Our family dynamic could buy any therapist a mega yacht.
For generations, forward and backwards, sprouting from this lot.
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I don’t think either of us fully understands the degree,
of what a crap-tastic childhood did to me.
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This makes twice you have used someone else to achieve your desire.
What’s next, a hitman for hire?
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God will let me know when it’s time.
He will let me know when things are prime.
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This isn’t about you.
I’m sure that makes you stew.
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Well, simmer.
I’m still trying to find a glimmer.
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It stopped being all about you when you chose to bring a child into this world.
You weren’t ready for all life unhurled?
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Who among us is?
Too bad you didn’t think about that before you crawled inside his.
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How did you think this would play out?
50 years later, I’m still fighting this bout.
4 stages of forgiveness – Google Search
Poetry & More 
Yo, forgiveness is like a game level, you know? One step at a time. But those postcards? Like poking a bruise. And cursive? Ancient history. Healing’s slow, like growing seeds. Family drama’s a soap opera marathon. But hey, we’re all figuring it out, right? Let’s find that glimmer together.
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Amen. Thanks for reading. 💕 So true, we are all trying to figure it out.
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No worries at all. All the best to all of us and all.
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💕
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