Before she left, I had hoped
she would reach out just one more time
in an attempt at forgiveness and healing
from the cataclysmic way our hearts collided,
a conversation that could only start with her,
else how would I know she was ready?
But when she stayed silent, I knew–prayed–
only an act of God could bring us together again.

Then the tornadoes hit.

Half a year away, she was the only person
who remembered my family out in western Kentucky
and had a mirage of love to break a two year silence.
Warmed, I embraced the opportunity to share
how the tornado aimed at my parents
pulled up at the county line,
simple random chance at play, for sure,
but easily attributed to blessings from God.

So what does true healing and forgiveness look like?

As with all mirages, the hope is sharp but fleeting,
bisecting the belief that I might just be saved
from sins so easily fallen into when rejection
crosses into the realm shattered self-esteem.
It’s wrong to weaponize such worthlessness,
to try to bring another down to my new low,
especially when they might already be there.
She simply dismissed my attempt at more meaningful conversation.

Now how does one know when they’re truly over such tragedies?

Two years I prayed for a chance at redemption.
Two years only delivered more sins. 
There may be something to what God is saying to her,
how showing forgiveness can eliminate the shame of another
but I’ve followed Him into the storm for the final time.
Who is to blame for such a mess of human motivation?
I can’t care. I’ve used too much empathy trying to save
a world nobody seems to want to make any better.