Do we forgive the sun that burnt us with its warmth or the thorn that pricked as we reached for beauty
Why resent the hammer that pinched our thumb, sinking a nail to protect us from the storm
Or the storm itself that wets us, giving water of life for our crops, washing away the dirt of day
Why curse the wind of betrayal that whisked away our blanket that warmed us in our bed
Or the flat tire that carried us thirty thousand miles before its air fled
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Author:
sorenbarrett (
Online) - Published: March 9th, 2026 03:05
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 3
- Users favorite of this poem: Aman 12
- In collections: Forgiveness.
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Comments1
Good write SB. Yes, KP prepares dinner sometimes. She says to me some words not needed: 'More sewage, dear?' lol.
Thanks Orchi for the read and comment it is appreciated. Doesn't she ever alter the menu with a little sludge or excrement?
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