by Susan Fleming Holm

The best choice is to turn away and leave.
I know I should have done so long ago.
Yet something in me wants still to believe

that all can be resolved. Do I deceive
myself to hope we still have power to slow
the swelling hurt, before I turn to leave?

Some gentle word, some gesture might relieve
the ascendant fury. God help me, I know
that deep inside I should not still believe

We can forgive again. Yet it will grieve
me should we not attempt once more to grow
beyond our bitterness. To turn and leave

without this one last effort would bereave
us deeply, Love. Yet wisdom says although
there's something in me wanting to believe

love's memory, love itself—these could reprieve
our wounding anger, I should still forego
that hope, and choose to turn away and leave.
Yet something deep inside still dares believe.

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