I Forgive

I forgive my father
for not knowing my name nor face,
or that I soiled my diapers.
I forgive him
for the fat lip he never saw
from when I tripped over the sidewalk
on Madison in Lakewood.

And I forgive my sister,
(the youngest older one)
for keeping me out of tenth grade
half a year
with threats of foster care and Metzenbaum.

My mother,
I forgive her
for trying to sell me out
for a few thousand dollars,
maybe some extra perfume,
I do not know.
In any regards,
I forgive my mother
for my summer of homelessness
and the night in that jail cell
in March, 1994.

I extend forgiveness
to my childhood church
for taking one look at me and sneering
when I was 17 and goth,
and I extend forgiveness
to all the friends who came and went,
the users,
and the people
who didn't even know they were.

I also forgive the jobs
that drained the life out of me,
and the time away from me.
I forgive them for all the days
that felt so wasted.

Indeed,
I forgive my ex wife,
whose name I can't even say
for actively discouraging me,
and for doing everything she could
to reduce me to rubble.
I forgive her for angling herself
to look like a victim.

To that end I forgive
my eldest sister
for not being my eldest sister
when I needed her to
be my eldest sister.

Lord, I forgive
the church I used to pastor,
for throwing my lover and I to the wolves
and not letting me repent.
And I forgive Donna Greene
for her arrogant remark
that God didn't want me to.

Also,
I forgive my children
for being caught in the middle,
and making the decisions they had to make.
I forgive them for forgetting about me
from time to time.

Lastly, I forgive myself,
because God knows I need it,
although I still don't even know
what that looks like.