Monday Poem

A Rescue
We, I don’t think, are taught about humility.

            We learn to share, to wait in line,
            to use our words.

We are not taught to be changed with them.

            Did you know that an apology once saved
            my life?

It was from a pastor; I’d paid a high price for his sin.

            It took months but, face to face, eye to eye,
            he took his burden back from me.

I felt my days ahead untighten and my hands finally unfold.

            The lines on his cheeks shallowed, too, if just for the moment
            the words gathered before flight.

By Megan Wildhood


  1. Thanks Megan, I enjoyed this poem. It is intriguing and there is just a hint of something sinister there, the "high price" - whatever it was - that was paid. Some great images there too.


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