Thursday, November 23, 2006

To Forgive

Shallow as a puddle.
Gone green. But only perhaps to avoid going white
White, the colour of a pure soul
Ironically, also the colour of a shamed, weary face

Bent over with the burden
An unerasable mark
Is it? Where's the ray of light?
An arrow on the wall, perhaps?

Seek a power - the power to forgive.
The eraser to obliterate this mark,
The hole for the light to peep through
And shine upon the arrow
On the wall of blame
It shows the way out
Of this hall of shame


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