Skip to content
The Insight Docket

Poem · Reflective Poetry

Seventy Times Seven

We tell others to forgive, to be strong, and to find comfort in grief, until betrayal wounds us, death takes someone we love, and our own advice becomes difficult to follow. Through the loss of his father and the quiet comfort of a cousin who simply stayed, Constantine explores the irony of human wisdom, the weight of forgiveness, and the healing power of being present when words fail. Seventy Times Seven is a reflection on what we preach, what we endure, and what pain finally teaches us.

By Constantine

· 1 min read

Beneath a moonlit sky, one soul mourns beside a grave while another finds peace beneath a fig tree. Between grief and silence lies a comfort no words could offer, only presence.

Original language: English

Translation is free for eligible registered readers; no paid subscription is required. The pilot requires an account confirmed as 18 or older. Only approved language directions can be processed.

AI-generated translations may contain inaccuracies. Check the original, quotations, names, citations and specialist terminology. Author attribution and rights remain unchanged.

Seventy Times Seven

By Constantine

Seventy times seven. Tell me, who keeps score? Of every wound we learn to hide, Of those who hurt us more? I told my friends, "Forgive them," When forgiveness wasn't mine. I spoke as though a wounded heart Could heal itself with time. I told the ones who mourned, "Be strong, you'll be okay." I never knew how hollow words Could sound on certain days. Until they laid my father down, And grief became my own. I wore a smile to hide the hurt, Then wept when I was alone. My cousin sat beside me, While I fought to hide my tears. I tried to smile, I looked away, And swallowed back the years. But tears have little mercy For the masks that we create; They fall like words we've held too long, Too heavy to translate. She saw the smile give way to grief, But never asked me why. She let the silence hold the words I couldn't say if I tried. I cannot tell how long she stayed, Or when my tears ran dry; I only know she didn't leave, And never asked me why. Now I can't count the tears I've shed, Since grief came calling, too. I used to count the wrongs they'd done, But pain has changed my view. So when you lose the one you love, I won't ask you to be strong. I'll sit beside you in the dark, And stay when words are gone. For I once thought that comfort meant Knowing what to say. Now I know sometimes love is just Not leaving someone in their pain.

On narrow screens, wrapped lines continue at an indent.

© 2026 Constantine. This original work remains the property of its author and is published by The Insight Docket under its contributor publishing licence. All rights reserved by the rights holder.