June 5th, 2018
“It’s not that I don’t want to do it, It’s that I don’t know how to do it.”
– My 7 year old self.
As I walk down these wooden stairs,
I know I’m given another chance,
To speak a greeting and change my advance.
But instead I bolt, zipping on my toes,
Because how can I be consistent if I froze?
Feeling nothing, as if routine was to dismiss my guilt,
And thinking one day, I’ll cross that bridge when it is built.
I ask myself why it is so hard to admit these feelings I still own-
For the person who I insist they go and leave me alone.
How can I show my face again after the time I let pass.
And expect the harmony of us to last and outlive the past?
I’m ashamed to say that grudges are hard for me to slay,
Because I buy that those who burn you once, can burn you again.
I chose to see the faults in what they’ve done and why they did,
When instead I could have let go, held my tongue and say I forgive.
Maybe then, the thought of hugging them would not be so foreign to me.
And I would be able to accept that even love ones are not born saints to be.
So tell me how can I begin to ask you to stay,
When I was the one who said I’m done and pushed you away.
For sorry is too short a word for me to say,
When what I really mean is how can I take back the way that I caved.
And believe me when I say I felt every bit of you rust,
But I’d just hate to say sorry, only to end up breaking your trust.
So please understand that when I see you and still say nothing,
Know that I’m trying, trying to find the words : I’m sorry.
Then, if you can, forgive me, for not forgiving,
I’m sure then, we’ll both have a story worth telling.
Forgive me for not forgiving.
– Chelsea Sik