He listens to every word she says,
his kind eyes
watching her lips
move as he assures her she should
not be so hard on
herself,
the man making her realize
she’s been worrying about herself,
all those self-incriminations,
this man who sits
beside her
like father confessor, never too harsh,
always available,
desperate to heal her wounds,
an archangel with his
protective wings,
telling her she is
right in an unrighteous world,
and bringing no
judgement
other than the one he hoped will heal her pain,
like Christ is with the good thief
on those crosses on that hill,
promising her she’ll see forgiveness
and she takes this on
faith.
No comments:
Post a Comment