Forgiveness

What is the texture of forgiveness?

What does it taste like?

Is it round and glowing

Or mundane and simple?

Does it slip through your fingers like water

Or is it jagged and thick like a rock?

What is the weight of forgiveness?

What does it sound like?

Does it pin you down and hold you there

Or is it fluttering, causing you to soar?

Is it a cruel master?

Does it break your back to carry

Or is it the weightless pattern of the divine?

What is my place with forgiveness?

Who am I to forgive?

Who am I to be forgiven?

What if I am too small to carry this heavenly responsibility

Or what if I am afraid of the conflict that necessitates it?

How do I know that the forgiveness is mine to give

Or to ask for?

What is the feeling of forgiveness?

What does it smell like?

Is it sweet like perfume

Or tangy like a freshly peeled orange?

Does it make your eyes water with putrid fumes

Or is it stale and choking like death?

I don’t feel hope at the chance for forgiveness

This word is too heavy right now

For forgiveness implies wrong-doing

And I am still breaking under the weight of an offensive world

I am still trying to defend vulnerability and innocence

Not ready to admit the need for forgiveness

As real as it may be

Lord, forgive me