Reflexive

Of all disquiets, sorrow is most serene.

Its intervals of soft humility

Are lenient; they intrude on our obscene

Debasements and our fury like a plea

For wisdom-guilt is always shared. The fears

Fall, if for just an hour, all away,

And the old, essential person reappears.

Sorrow can shape us better than dismay.

You have forgiven me, old friends and lovers,

I think you have forgiven me at last,

As you forgive the suffering fugitive.

And if I'm sorry who was once aghast

For all the hurts I've done you, I forgive

The self this gentle sorrow still recovers.