by Regina
Forgiveness isn't, "I'll forgive you, if you'll forgive
me,"
it's a symphony of lilacs in the springtime fields,
and a song from the wren's delicate heart,
it's when you awaken after a bitter night of anger melted into tiredness,
and moments of grief turned to lavender
scented pillows lulling you into a resplendent
dream,
of white doves ascending to Heaven carrying
whispers of the world praying,
as little workers in your mind build a bridge
of steel cables of peace forged by God,
whether there's reunion with those you've
forgiven, or not.