This bloodless accountant’s bill spilled blood – mine.
The stack of receipts proved a hunch, alas!
This lawyer’s draft was signed but changed in time.
These gifts I gave to Brutus and Judas.
All I now consign to flame. The fees spent,
The bribes I paid, became tough medicine
For my deaf, blinded heart. The angels sent
These sawbones to cut so I could begin
To cure. And healed, I drink in the delight
Of forests and gardens and nature’s wealth
Of smells and silence and radiant light.
Tough medicine once needed for my health
Came out of those old bottles I once cursed
But a gift to me from God’s universe.
Reconciliation poetry 