Oddly Fitting

Excuse me.

I have made a mistake
in choosing my footing,

into mouth, oddly fitting,
a self-inflicted drive-by shoe-ing.

Excuse me.

…opens a window,
to whisper, outwardly
to passersby, hoping
for a deserved message
carried on rustling wings
by elaborate origami cranes,
or crudely-folded paper planes,

each cleverly calligraphed,
penciled, or in drawings.

A Latin-scripted ‘excusare,’
alights on random readers,

to wit, the note,

“To you: I am sorry.”

I stepped on your foot. Excuse me.

As if two measly words
can stop your toes’
painful reeling.

I startled you at the corner. Excuse me.

As if two measly words
could stop trauma-induced,
icy fear, congealing.

Eye-to-eye, heart-to-heart,
ask forgiveness with

feeling.

---

©️ CG Tenpenny, 2024.

This a piece from my creative writing class assignments, meant to reflect on common phrases and communications.

It’s been a rough week. As some of you may know, I struggle with severe post-traumatic stress disorder. My automobile was broken into a few days ago – two smashed windows and a few hundred dollars in losses. I felt so violated. If you know about PTSD, you know that having a place to feel safe is essential. Now my home no longer feels safe. I’m trying not to spiral and miss too many days of school, but that’s a struggle by itself.

I’m sure I’ll be moving to a new, less crime-ridden city, though I truly wanted Portland, Oregon, to be my home.

This city constantly asks me to forgive her and excuse her, but she keeps hurting me and doesn’t seem to care.

I captured the image on a random Portland sidewalk. Rain-soaked and destitute. Oddly fitting.