Reunion
We fumble towards each other, old friends, past enemies: diminished, awkward, unfortunate. Wrong turns, afflictions and addictions have aged us, crease-cheeked and bent, shuffling uncertainly, clothes worn and ill-fitting, thrift-shop threadbare, baggy knees and thumb-holed sleeves. We seek out those we have ill-treated, look into hollow eyes, grasp their bony shoulders, haltingly ask for and receive forgiveness, holding each other, weeping not for what we have become, but for who we might have been.
