Forever blinded by a shameful past,
Nothing but retribution now to see,
Painting pictures ever more aghast
There always bound to was, not what might be.
Distraught by faulty grievances forgone,
Unable so to turn another cheek,
Not knowing that the truth of being strong
Lies in the placid faces of the meek;
Forgiveness, not forgetting vile sin—
For to forget ensures that naught is learned,
All journeys need a point where they begin;
What future lies upon a past that’s burned?
Ashes to ashes dust to dust presumed;
What profits love to ever hate exhume?
© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.