"Guilt" by: Rich Accetta-Evans

Right now, your guilt is heavy fruit,
Growing on your branches, bearing them down.
Your springy sapling strength is overcome. You cannot keep your longest limbs
From bending with the weight.
They will brush their leafy ends
Against the the ground. But do not ask too soon to be relieved of guilt.
If picked when green, this heavy fruit
Is hard, sterile and sour. Let it grow til its season comes.
Let it ripen, sweeten, soften.
Then it will loosen its grip.
And drop of itself to the waiting earth,
Carrying seeds of a new resolve.