“The Unforgiven”
My sense of yesterday now flown away
by grace but there’s a tinge of memory.
I felt her need to leave; she would not stay.
Enraged, her private hatred now set free,
she spiraled out the door with no goodbye.
Her energy, combustible with sparks.
Her feet did leave my door without a sigh.
Two sisters, now divided in their hearts.
Oh, evil is the black hole of device
that punishes the soul and brings such shame;
that warps the mind and turns free will to ice;
the unforgiven buried with the pain.
That memory of hate, my conscience stalks
as never looking back, she turns and walks.
Lithograph, Miguel Martinez.
Photo by Jacqueline Casey.
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