Seven Times Seventy, a poem

September 28, 2023  •  Leave a Comment

I've been thinking of ways to expand on The Weeping Key. I wrote this poem, the idea was planeted during one of the gospel readings recently, and I think it pairs well with the novel. I've never claimed to be good at poetry, so don't think I have aspirations to become the next Maya Angelou or Langston Hughes. (Two of my personal favorites.) haha  

I hope you enjoy!

 

 

Seven Times Seventy

by Ames Pointer

 

Seven 

Times Seventy

that’s 490 times we are 

supposed to forgive, but is that 

per person, or can we reach our quota,

 and start seeking vengeance?

 

It 

keeps me

 far from heaven,

thinking about forgiveness.

Because, what if we can’t do it?

 

And 

what if they 

can? Does the person 

that hurts us get through the gates,

while we stand outside them awaiting our 

elevator trip down to Hell?

 

Confess,

on your deathbed, 

and all will be forgiven, but by whom?

.…..Not by us, not from the ones they hurt…..

 

While 

they are able 

to cleanse their souls,

the stains of their abuse remains,

and for each lick of the belt, smack of the hand,

squeeze of the neck, we’re still left angry and hurting, 

unforgiving, even though we may say the opposite with words.

 

So,

 what about us?

Is forgiveness endless?

Should it be?

 

They 

say they 

are sorry and we put 

the pieces back together

but the cracks are still there,

held together by the glue of love,

but what if the bond breaks?

 

Do…

….we…..

…shatter………,

because we’ve been broken too many times?

 

Forgive 

them, for they 

know not what they do,

buuuuuuuuut, sometimes they do. 

 

Sometimes 

they know.

 

Sometimes 

they are aware, 

and they do it anyway,

 

because 

it fills their 

negativity meter 

and they can easily move on,

and the ones they hurt are left 

              struggling, 

                                      wanting to let go,

                                                             wishing to not remember…

 

and 

we say 

we forgive, 

but we don’t truly 

forgive,

and then 

the stain of 

anger becomes sin…

 

and now,

we despair, 

because

forgiving 

is hard,

and 

hurting 

is easy,

so we 

sit 

in the hurt

waiting 

for change

but we 

never act,

because we feel 

-stuck- 

and we 

think 

if we 

just pray 

about it,

 it’ll disappear,

but 

it doesn’t.

 

We 

think if we 

ignore it, and bury it 

in the backyard, it’ll go away,

 

but 

it comes to the 

surface

like a dead body,

rotting

and we rot with it, 

 

because we don’t know how to forgive,

because we’ve reached 700, 

per person,

and 

we are stuck,

dreading the end,

because they will surely die happy,

and they may repent and seek God and make it 

to paradise,

but we won’t,

because we are camels,

stuck in the eye of the needle,

waiting for someone to pull us through,

 

when what we really need is a hug 

and an ear or a kiss

to lessen the 

weight we 

carry of 

grief

from 

others not 

being who we want them to be, 

and finally, 

 

when 

we realize 

that the one who 

needs to be forgiven isn’t just the 

neighbor,

but ourselves,

for all the things we’ve done 

or 

not done,

or all the teachings 

we’ve heard but ignored,

for all the intuitions we’ve turned off,

or all the ways we’ve allowed others to use us,

or any of the things on our hearts that makes us wonder if we are good enough,

strong enough,

talented enough,

loved enough

then we’ll be able to let go,

and 

we won’t 

worry about the end,

because 

we will live in the now,

                                                                                                     at peace.

 


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