I send off my grief
like sand spilling through my fingers
settling like silt at the bottom of a river
salty with tears

I'm sorry, John
for not asking more of your suffering
for not seeing the tender and wounded child
within the grown man

I'm sorry for not knowing how to love you and myself
and for always being on-guard, protecting my "self"
at the cost of keeping you out

The apology is like sand cupped in my hands
released into the flowing water
freeing me from guilt.

May it find you downstream
if you are waiting
and release you too.