They say forgiveness is a blessing,
as if it did not drag behind it
years of drowning.
As if it did not reopen
what you once sealed
to stay alive.
They say forgiveness opens doors.
Yet I stand at the doorway,
counting the cost.
Hinge rusted.
Key heavy in my hand.
If God forgives,
let Him grant me the grace,
not to absolve or excuse,
but to turn the key,
and not let That Man
decide who I become.
Blessed, maybe,
is the one who keeps walking,
even when grace
falls a few steps behind.