It’s not your fault.
No need to grieve what might’ve been
if only you’d gotten it right,
if only you’d not been you.
Let go of your despairing love,
your fear for their happiness.
Hang up the rescuer’s harness.
There’s nothing to fix.
They, like you, are
gorgeous contradictions—
broken clouds, edged in gold,
spilling light.
Stop for a moment
and marvel.
See the ink run
on your long list of crimes.
Release the judge and the jury.
Notice you are standing
in a sunshower,
beads of light
quenching the shadows.
Photo by Basil Smith