It always ends with atonement,
In my case, for believing others evil
For believing what I once believed
When any classroom welcomed me
To pontificate on virtue at will.
Now, of course, I know I must be
Quiet, with life and livelihood imperiled
For speaking the truth directly
Or at least believing I was free to.
All I can say, by way of apology, is “have pity,”
For what I have learned can’t be wiped away
And what is wrong can’t be so easily turned
With words twisted elegantly. My voice would
Be multitudes, if they let what I'd say exist
Before the cleansing is accomplished.
But still we persist, in amplified silence
That honors the others denials
As it makes us deny them
For the sake of the truth, an island
Where the few who wash on its shores
Talk only of the sea’s treachery.
Why grief that they choose not to think for themselves?
Why anger they are innocent, these murderers?
And why do I come back to their doors, once shut on me
To peer again through the lead of their glass?
What they don’t know only hurts me.
I feel shame four or five times a day
For deeming their errors a sin,
Their ignorance vice,
Their assaults a crime
When their words are just weapons,
Harmless until I care about them.
That I will is nothing to be sorry for, per se,
Despite what the high llamas say
About the traps of compassion,
For it gets me close at least to the human,
That wretched place, where one can see
Reality as a dream,
And call it heaven.
