DEAR ABBY: I love reading your column. A couple of years ago, I read a piece on forgiveness and realized that, like many other people, I don't know how to forgive or ask for forgiveness. Your column helped. Would you please run it again? -- MRS. G.S.K.P., LAKE WORTH, FLA.
DEAR MRS. G.S.K.P.: Pleased to oblige. Since this is International Forgiveness Week, your letter is timely. The poem you requested was written by George Roemisch.
Forgiveness is the wind-blown bud
which blooms in placid beauty at Verdun.
Forgiveness is the tiny slate-gray sparrow
which has built its nest of twigs and string
among the shards of glass upon the wall of shame.
Forgiveness is the child who laughs in merry ecstasy
beneath the toothed fence that closes in Da Nang.
Forgiveness is the fragrance of the violet
which still clings fast to the heel that crushed it.
Forgiveness is the broken dream
which hides itself within the corner of the mind
oft called forgetfulness so that it will not bring
pain to the dreamer.
Forgiveness is the reed
which stands up straight and green
when nature's mighty rampage halts, full spent.
Forgivness is a God who will not leave us
after all we've done.
So, dear readers, a gentle reminder: If perchance you are the "heel" that crushed a violet -- this is the week to seek forgiveness.