Forty Years Later

I heard the nasty words.
Nothing new.
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
He heard.
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
Forgive him.

I wished he had used his fists
Forgiveness would not have taken
Forty years.

~Larry Coleman


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