Forgive Me

Humbled again,

by my body’s reaction

to things I can’t see,

that make me stop,

pay attention,

in ways not always,

pleasant or wanted.


And so I try,

to listen, 

to hear you,

and in sickness,

or in health,

offer up,


for I have taken you,

so far from home:

aboard boats,

fishing frigid seas;

onto city streets,

full of alcohol-exploding blood;

and almost into thin air,

again and again.


And so,

when you cry out,



with open-throated wails,

dear body,

I will hold on,

and hold you,

as we

make our way,

back home.


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