I heard the nasty words.
I knew what and who said them.
As always the words stung
Like bees stinging over and over and over.
The words crushed some part inside me
Like a blender pulsed ice until it was in tiny pieces.
Each word hurt as if garbage could feel pain when
Compacted in a truck.
The difference this time was that
Demanding the “bad guy” go
Immediately to his office.
Inside I smiled.
Thinking maybe this time
He would get justice
And would stop.
He did not…
Forty years later
A invitation to the renion had a hand-written sentence
At the bottom.
Please come! I need to ask your forgiveness.
I did not go.
What I did do was
I wished he had used his fists
Forgiveness would not have taken