Forgiveness

Sweet, sweet forgiveness:
Hanging on the boughs of need,
So fickle in her true expression,
For without love enough she contains no worth
And with love overmuch, shame masks her pretty face.

Hand in hand she walks with retribution,
A lover's lane winding through an orchard,
The fruit of which is salty, for no trees are these
That offer up their valued wares:
They are only a living graveyard of persons wronged.

Forgiveness, yet:
She may be begged, or bought, or maybe derived
From the clinging of one victim to the criminal
Who, even in wrongness, is intermingled so with the former
That pride-wound becomes but a necessary trade for peace.

A promise she becomes, when given,
So even when jealousy stabs most unbearably,
Or anger wrenches a quick-tempered heart,
She whispers cool reminders into a reddened ear,
Of calmness, and patience, and acceptance.