The old ache surfaced recently. While walking sunny summer streets, with green leaves dancing playful and holly hocks nodding as I passed, with an incongruous mourning in my soul.
There is no sense to this guilt, and yet it lies like undigested meat in my gut, an unwelcome, yet familiar inhabitant in the deepest recesses of my being.
I weep in sorrow for a wrong not mine and seek a means of atonement, as though somehow that might make amends. But that would be impossible.
I try hard to understand, to resolve the impossible dissonance.
The heartache is like an aching tooth that reminds you constantly of its presence. I pray, I read, I seek peace, and finally a glimmer comes.
Guilt is anger turned inward on oneself. Far easier to bear it personally than to turn it on ones you love, no matter what.
And understanding that, helps...a lot.
New International Version (NIV)