a bastardisation of a recurring theological conversation about forgiveness…

who knew there was more to forgive?

the pain was easiest
the skin doesn’t remember the force of a slap
once its imprint fades
and once the nerves stop sending
their chaotic signals to the brain
the ache eases
and the bruise
leaves just a shadow
proof our bodies are made
to repair

the shame was harder
insidious by nature
its tentacles of secrecy and fear
took a long, agonising prising
– a reliving
and reshaping
of every remembered moment-
to release their hold

but release they did,

and i thought i was done.

but now
only now
i see how much this deep certainty,
this matter-of-fact reality,
colours every moment of my living:
it is beyond all possibility
that i could ever be loved

and suddenly
from nowhere
i am defeated
again

and that
i cannot
quite yet
forgive.