forgiveness

Hammer/Nail

/ Laura Peetoom / 1 Comment

That you are and always have been strong.
That you were strong enough to survive; that you’re strong enough for more.
That you’re engaged in something more.
That you tested us. That none of us passed the test.
That none of us can pass the test.
That you hesitate to blame us.

That your judgements are valid;
that they have bitten deeply.
That your judgements are invalid;
that they shook our foundation.
That your judgements arise from your experience.
That your experience has scarred you.

That you are examining your scars.
That anger is the light by which you see the features of the scars.
That you must absolutely shine the anger.
That everything is coloured by the anger.

That our eyes close against the harsh light.
That we search for tools of healing; that we search blindly.
That the shapes in our hands are like those of the tools that have hurt us.
That they are hurting us now; that they have become weapons.

That we must empty our hands.

That we must wait for the morning.

© 2024 by Laura Peetoom

Parents & Children

/ Laura Peetoom / Leave a comment

Our parents fail us, and we in turn fail our children.

Take your eyes off the road for just a second, or focus too narrowly, and you fail.

We get behind the parenting wheel with directions we have written ourselves: avoid this pothole, don’t go down this road. And then we fail our children other ways, all unaware: casually or sadly or cruelly, though rarely with malice.

What we have done to them or failed to do is irrevocable and cannot be erased. When we realize what it is that we have or have not done, we see the bloody fingerprints everywhere, upon the babes in our arms to whoever they are now. But only to a degree: there are strange lights and shadows where our children (have) travel(led) that confound our gaze — valleys where they walked amidst enemies, looking for friends.

Forgive

/ Laura Peetoom / 1 Comment

Forgiveness sheds what hampers you.

Imagine being in a bouncy castle; only, it’s not for fun, you’re living there, trying to get stuff done, trying to get places, and there’s this moving, bouncing, rocking, unsteady surface beneath your feet. All the time. 

That’s your victimhood. When you forgive, you plunge a knife into the side of it and all the air comes out. It’s not gone; your pain is not gone. But you can get around much more easily, here and there and everywhere.

And you know, traffic has a way of wearing at things. By the end of your life, your pain may be worn away to scattered scraps—so easy to pick up and toss into the trash can on your way to heaven.