Echoes of Forgiveness

In the quiet depths where shadows creep,
Lies a wound so grave, so bitterly deep.
The soul, ever wise, whispers soft of reprieve,
Yet the heart, scarred and searing, finds it hard to believe.

Forgiveness, a distant, flickering flame,
A beacon the spirit gently claims.
But the heart, in its chamber, cold and confined,
Pulses with the echoes of what’s left behind.

How do you forgive when the hurt screams loud,
When each whispered memory is heavy, a shroud?
The soul may urge, “Let the past depart,”
But forgiveness is a journey, slow for the heart.

The struggle, silent, stretches long in the night,
Where the soul sees clear, but the heart lacks the light.
In this dance of darkness, where pain oft resides,
Both yearn for the sunrise on easier tides.

For to forgive is not to forget the sting,
But to free the spirit to soar, to sing.
Though the heart may falter, weighed down by its plight,
The soul, patient, knows it will guide it to light.

Time, they say, will ease the ache,
Slowly, the heart will begin to partake.
In the dance of forgiveness, in giving release,
Finding that in letting go, lies the path to peace.