SONNET ON CONSCIOUS CLEMENCY

The wise of ages counsel me, impart

that I should view things from their brighter side;

to make light of the scars upon my heart.

Wise words to say, but harder to abide

so they would be at least half-way achieved,

when ringed by killers, robbers, vaunted sin,

vexed by how they seem fixtures, more than ever,

who throughout history go clear to win;

with haughty towering statues, monuments

in honour of their bragging, truly awful.

Hence I incline, aside, in silence soulful

to first-of-all forgive myself instead

and through this, slant, self-serving sentiment,

my trespassers. The living and the dead.