Wise men say that
goodness is inherent, which
doesn’t seem apparent as
I look upon the violence in the world.
Where evil often lingers there are
people pointing fingers, there are
people pointing rifles
dropping bombs.
I think it is inside me.
Inherited, genetically
from people floating upstream in
my bloodline.
I think I got some too; of that
murderous, taboo
all-too-often-we’ve-forgotten
wickedness.
My grandpa had a stroke.
And last year I made a joke that
if he kicked the bucket
that’d be alright with me.
What he did to my mom when she was just a girl:
destroyed her little world,
like a hammer
to a singing music box.
So now he’s going to die and
in my mind that should be fine and
I want fewer awful men upon
the Earth.
But dirt doesn’t discriminate
between people who love and
people who hate.
We all will be devoured in the end.
Despite this human race I still
believe in giving grace and in
forgiveness, but
it will not come from me.
All of you who lay
abuses, fire guns or make
excuses, will never be absolved while you
draw breath.
But even when I’m vindicated and
you’re dead, disintegrated, in the earth
the world will cover you
in flowers too.
Raleigh women's art collective 