tonight with the moon full and low in the sky, blue
finally to write about you, to talk about you, with love
the way i used to, with hope and promise and joy
finally i am sick of ache, weighted arrows in my shoulder
harnessing my force, good or bad, from reaching you
forced I am, into stepping close enough again
fallen into embrace, to rest the weight of it upon you
done. … with just space enough
for continuing despite what we have … chosen to forget
i’m still learning what love is, learning who i am…
…. the moon demands all of my attention to this task, to love you
I stumbled upon this painting by Scott and was stopped in my tracks. Here was an image that seemed to capture the wrestle in my mind for the last few months.
Getting to America, to this place, these people – this movement, was meant to be a definitive stepping stone. A brilliant release from a scarred and troubling chapter in my life – where things ceased to be true as I had known them to be. It was a scar of my own doing, and yet not. I doubly owned it with the other partakers, yet carried it so heavily. Struggling not to be a victim, to forgive, to move on.
But it takes time, and this place is like a sharp lens, a focusing ring pulled tightly towards my body.
My desire to genuinely forgive and be a better person as result of my mistakes, my justification and my grief is like a taste in my mouth. Yet I doubt my ability to do it.
But maybe the desire to forgive, to carry on, to grow beyond my borders is enough. Maybe that’s all there is. Maybe this kind of confession and forgiveness offers nothing else but… desire. Actually achieving some palpable, tangible feeling would be too noble, too gracious for someone as incomplete as what I am.
That being said, I am moving closer towards what I want to think and feel in regards to forgiving, than I used to be. Good news, huh?