Forgiving Progression

Listening to a track titled Forgiveness. It's instrumental, thank god. I'm on the earth, flat out, in my mind, and these chords become the touch, a soft blanket over my body, no words. As if something could touch where I am, possibly eye to eye with understanding. That some element might be just the shade of sensation that I cannot even name for myself, that the fabric would become a mother for a moment in my world and hold me.

There's not enough air in my lungs even as I inhale dirt, mineral spirits for revival. Time to close my eyes and dig deeper. Tears held behind sinewy jaw, and I recall how my closest friend says at midnight last night how hardened I have become, how that's difficult to watch. Yeah, damn right. Except I could have used that twenty years ago before all the bad decisions, dominos tip back year by year.

Acoustic reams of forgiveness stroke the regret as I step into the next morning hour. Preschool pick up, and my girl flying free in the wind as I push from behind.