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Seasons

Past blew its frigid wind at me
And shut me in the cold
I opened hands to newer years
To fit into its mold

But hands that reach for what’s not there
Will seldom feel the same
When tucked for warmth into the years
That will not speak your name

Again I reached reluctant palm
To grasp ephemeral mist
But found this tear-drenched hand of mine
Was balled into a fist

Now drunk on rage I used that hand
To rap upon that door
To throw all those who meant me pain
To storms I felt before

But what I heard within those walls
Helped draw a list’ning ear
To hear the words of those who hurt
Conversing of their fear

With rage that sank to sympathy
I listened to them strain
To tell of all their inner angst
That left them none the same

I looked again upon my hand
Once clenched to end a fight
And see again the tears that fell
Now glist’ning in new light

I turned away now lost in thought
Prepared to face the cold
Prepared to thrust away the past,
Now broken from its mold

But as I turned to face alone
That barren, frozen place,
I felt a warm and gentle breeze
That breathed against my face

Alone, I walked toward this spring
Along that greening land
And found upon my open palm
Forgiveness in my hand.

Comments

  1. A friend turned me on to your blog, and I have been reading your poems. I find myself having to think hard to fully grasp the meanings, but this one definately had the overriding theme of forgiveness. Nicely done! You seem to be very deep and intelligent. I have some poems on my blog if you would be interested in reading them.

    ~ roadtoholiness.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks for the comment. My poetry is few and far between, but maybe you will enjoy some of my other writings too. I find blogging to be such a great outlet and witnessing tool ~ especially for shy people like me!

    ReplyDelete

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