Forgiveness

Most of the time, I make a decision to not judge you.

What you have done to me, you must have done unwittingly. What you have taken, you must have needed more than I did. Was your father good to you, I wonder. It dawns on me that you know no more about yourself than I do.

Of this, I am certain: you had your reasons. The things you saw, I did not see; my hours are different from yours. The places I've been, you might not have; your pains are unknown to me.

Perhaps you were as lost as I used to be: wading in pools of doubt, clutching at forgotten lights. Perhaps we both still haven't been found. The world is too big for certainty.

I wish you lucidity, I wish you inner peace.

Because this, too, is true: Stranger, you are my sister.