Analysis of The Apology

Green mountains, like history,
Loom on a distant horizon.
Every ring of every tree
Boasts an immortality
It does not have.
The clouds of tomorrow's rain collect overhead,
Like tears in the corners of eyes,
As the fluttering leaves whisper peace,
And the wildflowers,
Like life's fickle fortune,
Sway to the rhythm of the breeze.
The snap of each stem between my fingers
Resounds in my heart,
Like every injustice I have ever visited.
And I walk back along the road at dusk,
Clutching in my hand
The red, blue, yellow, and purple
Repentances,
That can never say
How sorry I am.