Vengeance

By Kwame Dawes

We wear our plans of vengeance

deep beneath the layers of normal life;

gentle handshakes, sweetly cologned,

always smiling "welcome in"; and sometimes

when we are not thinking about it

it is forgotten, as if the storehouse

of hurt was never there. Then in a wave

of memory, the wound smarts again

and we find the pulse of our hate

slowly gathering heat in the skin

I placed a curse on a white man, once;

a silent curse I told to no one,

and you will never know the sweet

satisfaction of seeing him go blind,

decrepit and despondent in his waning years;

and I spoke my pleasure to no one.

For days, I woke with something oddly

pleasant, a lightness of hope renewed,

making the day an anticipated joy; during

all those lovable days I would laugh a lot.

The taste of vengeance is too sweet

for a heart of Christ. I repent. I sin.

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posted 15 September 2006