In this latter part of life, my prayer of the heart is most often without words. My tongue is stilled. My mind is stilled. The prayer of the heart becomes the heart's own respiration. I breathe in and I breathe out. It is God's breath. God breathing in, God breathing out. It is God's breath breathing me.
I used to think that forgiveness was a one-time and final act -- in one moment the pain subsides, and I say "I forgive," and it is over. But I have found that another day hidden memories spring forward from deep recesses of the mind and soul, and I must forgive again ... an ongoing project of the human soul.