What’s Left

Do you think I’m just flapping my gums?
I’m grateful for the things that I got right.
Old mistakes sometimes keep us up all night,
But I did do some good; forgiveness comes,
In stages and in moments. Beat the drums,
Announce it to the world: nothing’s all white,
Or all black either, not my appetite
Or your successes, neither plunder nor plums.

Your failures and my needs won’t die alone:
What’s left is what was really in your heart,
The grins and glowers tearing you apart
And pulling you together, shocked, wind-blown,
Silent, or muttering in a monotone.
I helped, some days. It’s love only, not art.