I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.
Not because I did something wrong, not because I’m ashamed of my actions, but because I respect my humanness, and being sorry is an important part of that.
I’m not sorry for making a mistake or seeing things the wrong way or acting out my mood or reacting from a highly narrow minded emotional experience of life.
It’s what we do.
I’m sorry because I don’t mind to acknowledge and admit how incredibly small my worldview is, how little of the totality I’m able to grasp, and how hard it is for me to truly and directly understand you, let alone see life like you.
I’m sorry for not being able to come from the same place at the same time, to feel what you feel, and to understand how things that make you sick and angry and confused, hardly mean anything to me.
I’m sorry that I can’t experience your life in order to appreciate your pain and confusion.
I’m sorry for this beautiful flaw, this incredible incompetence that makes me color the world in a highly specific and personal way, leaving no room to come from a truly neutral place, and hardly leaving any space for your colors.
I’m sorry because, although I’ll never really understand you, I know that you’re like me, just as confused, just as lost, just as hurt, and I forget that.
And I know that whatever place I come from, you know that place too.
I’m sorry for not being able to appreciate the true wonder of life more often and live from that from moment to moment, in love, but I know that this is part of the design, and the confusion creates space for the complete range of human traits, from dirty to divine.
I’m sorry that I sometimes forget to treat you the way I’d like to be treated.
And I’m sorry for not being graceful and brave enough to say I’m sorry before today.
It will probably happen again, but now I know what to do and say.
I’m sorry.

(Photo by @matthewhenry, for Unsplash)


I am a poem.

I am a poem.

05/06/2020