Forgiveness isn’t free. It ain’t easy. It is a chisel and a block of stone. It is a rock and a chain around the ankle, with a long journey to the top of a mountain. Forgiveness isn’t easy. It shouldn’t be. It would be strange if it were. It would be some sort of strange force-field that throbs and hums. It would engulf us in it’s uncanny warmth and lull is to sleep, suck our blood, and inhibit the re-uptake of our neurotransmitters. Let me out of this forgiveness field. Let me back to the cement streets and the tall trees. Let me back to that sweet realm where words still meant something. Where forgiveness was earned (and deserved). Where God dwells in real ways, and humility is tangible.
Rushing through the trees, gliding over streams, rustling through my hair, the morning breeze roams through the world freely changing the stillness. pushing a girls hair into her eyes, it causes her to avoid the violent man she would've otherwise fallen for. a bumble bee is swept away from the swift claws of a curious kitten. A red leaf sways to the ground signifying the beginning of autumn. dandelion seeds float gently around a toddler as her sticky fingers grab at the mystery. the steam rising from my cup of tea is slated to the left as a slight breeze hits my neck
gathered around the living room, all of our friends were lounging around watching Netflix, eating pizza and chatting amongst themselves. Sat with my legs crossed on one of the sofas, Ryan put his arm around my waist and threw a grey blanket over us so that no one could see, his hands were warm and he drew small circles on my stomach. as i looked over at him, i could feel a kick in my stomach and i watched his smile broaden and his eyes fill with tears. I wiped his eyes and fell into his embrace his arms wrapped around our little creation protectively, although we were young then, the second i saw the strip turn pink, i became an adult, a mum and the moment he felt that kick, he became an adult, a dad
Yellow sky. Boy running down a hill. Smog world. City exhaust. Arm-pit air. Green grass for contrast. Green grass, treated to kill weeds (and anything wild, for that matter). Green grass like outdoor carpeting. Green grass to help us lie to ourselves that nature still lives in our midst. Green grass to help us deny we are killing the earth. To distract us from the reality that we are running out of wild space. We are running out of elephants. We are running out of glaciers. Yellow sky. Green grass. Boy running down a hill and out of time. Prophets condemn the profits of industry. Profits silence the prophets of God's kingdom. Yellow skies turning red. Green grass is dead. Small elves in business suits and paint brushes rub their brush along each dead leaf of grass. Boy running by. Running out of time.
most of the time when i say sorry, it is not because i regret what i have said or done or that i feel sorry for you, most of the time i say sorry and push my pride a side because i value our relationship more than winning petty arguments, if i say sorry to you really im saying i cant let you go just yet and when they dont accept the apology, theyre saying i do not need you or want you in my life. then they lose you, they lose the person who was willing to say sorry, to forget their pride and tell you they want you with the simple words im sorry, whereas you lost someone who didnt want you. Just say sorry, trust me its worth it