What's it like to apologize in your state or country?
My poem:
How to Say Sorry in Canada
Part One
Small things are always your fault
even if they aren't
So, in Canada,
apologize to the people
that brush past you aggressively
apologize to the person
who knocked the bag out of your hand
apologize to the cashier
for her mistake
-----
Part Two
In Canada
things have feelings
Apologize to the soap
for dropping it in the shower.
Apologize to the rug
for tripping on it
Apologize to your computer
for making a mistake
Apologize to the stop sign
for not stopping.
---
Part Three
In Canada,
never apologize for big things,
the things that really are your fault.
But you can apologize
for historic injustices and abuses
It's always time for truth and reconciliation
as long as the abuse happened
100 years ago.
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Meanwhile,
Here's a blog and hubski conversation about apologies:
When I wish upon a star
I end up seeing you
Picking up the threads
I end up where I begin
Sewing strands just to see
What they be on me
An image comes to light
My rods adjust to see
Twisting strands, you and me
A little strand of life
A rainy mood to beat
Cross each other in a life
A bridge is knit between
Two thumbs and fingers crossing crafting strands
Child hands play twisting lives up for a laugh
Youthful play a fullsome cannot describe my inner drive
Lulling me mightily I close my eyes trying to epitomize
Darkness comes first
Then light, diffuse
Twisting shapes, not a heart
Hard lines, spinning apart
Where are those soft threads, soft hands, soft feet
Not thinking about what’s next to eat
Discriminating hunger refined by thought and feeling
Mirroring lust the should of feel
Should I choose or just be, mixing sand and surf my foot leaves prints by moving the earth
Innocence comes first. Than knowledge and hurt.
Self-control yet again, domestication of sins
The apple falls far from the tree blame the wind
The early bird gets the worm, then a snake bit me
The tree, a tree, any tree I guess, is quite enough for me to make a mess
I will apologize, but not with words.
Instead I will carry mood and feeling into action.
Transmutate thought into being.
What do I have left
Words are so useless, drama king being
I live to die, how else may I be, if not me than me than me
Kiss my ass, iconoclast, I knit my words for thee
I spin yarn into hard bales for lil’ plump hands and those that act to be