Lost Potential

When last we met
we opposed each other heartily.
You championed much that I could not condone;
I seemed to you emotional.

Long years have flown
and now we meet again - not planned
but round the edges of a conference
in which we both participate.

The time passed since
our last exchange has not been vain.
At first, hurt pride and sense of betrayal
picked over like a scab, but then

mature regrets.
A forgetting that's survival
and moves beyond events but is not quite
forgiveness. Today, across a room

a choice insists.
Here is the point at which I can
redeem myself. Or not. As I see fit.
I smile, let go in God's good grace,

extend my hand.
You start! Not knowing how to be.
The moment holds impenetrable truth - 
I'll never know if you regret

our animosity
or see beyond with kindness
it was folly stopped us both discovering
the synergy that could have been.

You take my hand.
Our eyes lock, publicly polite;
we look away as if the world had not
stopped dead, its orbit rocked in space.

© Janet Henderson June 2015