Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Living Water

Wait --
Why didn't you tell me
It wasn't your forgiveness that mattered,
it was mine?

All these years
I've been so thirsty
I could taste it --
that longing for cold clear freshness --
and it was there all along,
just waiting for me to forgive?
That one?
I could barely stand to share a pew with him.

And yet,
the moment came,
I didn't think I could do it
I asked for your help,
I said the words --
(well, you said them through me) --

and, oh,
the pure sweet rush of it:
like standing under a perfect waterfall.

thirst quenched,
lapping up the droplets of love
still splattered on my upturned face,
I see him now --
that symbol, of all the pain that was --
and rejoicing spills over me,
overflowing into a hug of celebration.

I'm growing thirsty again:
Find me someone else to forgive --
Just not that jerk who cut me off at the stoplight,

* * *

1 comment:

Virginia Wieringa said...

I've been perusing your work and this piece reminded me of someone I need to forgive. I wonder if I can or will? thanks for your thoughts.