The Eighth Step (an angry, non-smutty poem by me)

I'm posting this poem on this blog because it's in response to a family member insisting on discussing issues about my childhood I raised in a poem I posted on a blog under my real name.  (Which is not to say a pen name is not a real name, but that's a philosophical issue for another day.)  Rather than getting into an endless unpleasant loop, I present:

 THE EIGHTH STEP

Confrontation

Is not all that. 

 

Forgiveness

Is not all that. 

 

Take your 8^th step

And choke on it.

 

Go to your higher power

And tell him/her/it/they

That I moved on so long ago

That the only thing left to forgive

Is you reminding me

Of what I survived. 

 

Person 1: 

 

The time my baby

Was in the backseat

As I drove you to the airport

And you mentioned offhandedly

That your program requires

That you seek forgiveness

And would I mind?

 

Why, yes, I would.

 

Person 2: 

 

The time you said

You don’t really remember any of it

But would I forgive you? 

 

Whatever. 

 

I slide away,

As I used to.

Then, I was biding time until I

Could build my own life.

Now I have.