The Tao of Forgiveness
Onnyx Bei
Filial piety and fraternal duty—
surely these are the roots of humanness.
—Confucius, “The Analects”
There’s a cobblestone road
in my neighborhood
and an old oak whose roots
have broken the stones.
Where the road disappears
in the thick early morning fog,
I hear the clip-clop of hooves.
It’s my father who visits
in a coach and white horse.
My father, whose breath
doesn’t steam
the windows anymore,
returns to inquire
if I have forgiven him.
When I was ten,
I etched my family name
on one of the stones
in Mandarin.
Tracing my finger
over the character, I recall
the Tao of forgiveness,
and it’s I who asks
to be forgiven
for refusing
a dying man’s desire
to make amends
so I might settle
my accounts
before the Sun rises
and the fog burns off.
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