Forgiveness In Winter

Forgiveness In Winter

I remember tenderness.
It's what's left after passion.
It's where passion starts.
You are a dream I've kept to myself.
You are a sin one needs to confess.
Having shunned telling, now how
sweetly I swell.
Forgiveness is a marvelous secret.
Its bliss lets both parties go
without guilt, finally off the hook
for their damnable feelings of wrong.
Once we entered one another like a cavern.
Darkness bended, became refuge.
You moved on, but the impression stayed.
Numbness hollowed it. Can that
chasm assuage, &; you, why did you
think death could be selfless,
a vessel for the other's sorrow
&; the void of one you decided to leave?
Surviving, I've gotten on.
solace an overnight bag packed
before a sojourn in hell.
Descending to that realm
of our own ferocious conviction
of failure, forgiveness is a gift
we present to our souls. Can't we
accept it, compassion our spring
touchstone in this hibernate
winter cave?
Go ahead. Feel the thing.
The moss grows thick,
a furry cover for limbs
when hearth fires grow dim
&; old ghosts are raised.