forgiveness
is not a white flag
it is not a handshake
at a polished table
under the cold lights of compromise

it is the antler
left on your doorstep
by something wild
that has watched you
from the edge of the wood
for seasons too long to name

it is the beast
that stalks the perimeter dark
around your bitter burning
on paws of blood
and mercy
tufts of furred grace lodged
in its jawbone

forgiveness
is not forgetting
it is remembering
and still choosing
to lay the blade down
in the grass

it is the moment
you meet the ghost of the person
who broke you
and they do not bow
but you do

not in surrender in understanding because now you know they were carrying their own pile of savage stones their own famine of love and though it doesn’t excuse the wound it explains the ruin

forgiveness
is the long walk home
after the avalanche
it is the breath you take
before digging down
to a story you buried
as the pain buried you

it is not tidy
it is not noble

it is the craggy voice
of the old woman in the mountain
who jabs at your bruise
with her message
the only way out
is through

forgiveness
is crawling on your knees
through the shards
of your own story
finding the child
you left behind
when the shattering
was at its loudest

it is holding her
not fixing her
not changing her
holding her
tenderly
imperfectly
while rocking her scorched
hummingbird body
and saying
"we made it
love—
we made it"

it is laying your pain
at the altar of the phoenix
inside your own soul

it is remembering yourself
indestructible
not forgetting the fire
but learning
how to carry its ember and ash
without setting
everything else
ablaze

***********
Poem © Angi Sullins