And tender also to the thoughts returning
Unbidden in the night,
Old blames, old shames, old flames re-burning
Remember that a lot you squirm for now
Was really caused
By leaping into things feet first.
If you had paused,
Considering like others every consequence,
There would be less,
But less of you as well for what it's worth, purblind
Then tender anyway to him, this one-time self,
Hard to defend,
As you learn lessons still unlearned
Towards the end.
(From The Fall, new poems by Anthony Cronin, to be published by New Island next month)