Forgive Me
Mary Oliver
Angels are wonderful but they are so, well, aloof.
It's what I see in the mud and the roots of the
trees, or the well, or the barn, or the rock with
its citron map of lichen that halts my feet and
makes my eyes flare, feeling the presence of some
spirit, some small god, who abides there.
If I were a perfect person, I would be bowing continuously.
I'm not, though I pause whenever I feel this holiness, which is why I'm often
so late coming back from wherever I went.
Forgive me.
Vir almal wat vir ons lief is. Die wat nie spesifiek vir ons lief is nie, mag ook maar kyk.
12 November 2018
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