-- The Sting of Resentment --

by John Herlihy

The sting of resentment often sharp and deep,

After all that has happened, I can only weep.

Poured out my heart like a pitcher of cream,

In response what comes back, a reply mean.

Resentment indrawn, with no strike inflicted,

You lose, another has won, never predicted.

Discontent found in the ruins of having lost,

A cold day in spring brings back winter frost.

Like a pin cushion being pierced pin by pin,

Until resentment began to flow over the rim.

In relationships certain things are expected,

An act of betrayal certainly a thing rejected.

The sting may last for only a brief moment,

The memory serves over years of atonement.

Living with a thing that never should happen,

Consequences arise that are never reckoned.

The relationship once thought of as a privilege,

Now but ashes in a ruined memory as sacrilege.

The bee dies in consequence of using its sting,

Resentment stings deep even from a small thing.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Saturday 17 February 2024