When, troubled, I awakened
Finding myself stuck in the past
Wrestling with forgiveness
To subdue a cry within---
The woman who shared my burden
Who saw my truth discarded
Ripped in two and thrwon away
By a hot headed lying representative of the system,
She reminded me there is truth inside
“why don’t you use it to write a good poem?”
And she was wise, for I know:
There may be nothing I can do
No champion for my cause.
I believe I still could speak
Still have my case examined
Speak for right guaranteed
By our Constitution, forgotten by
“Infinite patience produces infinite results;”
How I wish to learn what forgiveness
Lies in my heart, how weak
My intolerance for inconsistency
Left me, leaves me---inconsistent.
There is so much good
So many needs for my own strength:
To address my impatience
My anger at injustice, leaves me
Seeking a match for self importance.
There is forgiveness, and there is corruption;
Is it my higher nature, to stand
Against fascism? Is it some petulance
that awakens me, sad that I have left
nothing to stand and give them the lie?
Self importance: it left me,
Right, yes, vulnerable
To whatever officer Magalaras
Wanted to say happened,
My self importance led me to be rude
And his led him to arrest me
And write lies to record
Against my character. Their own cameras
Would tell the truth, if they could be evidence.
Better am I , to learn patience---
Better am I , to learn forgiveness;
Better am I, to serve man
Better am I, but bitter am I---
Surrender and serve, while the crises of the globe
Spin world wide with far greater suffering than i,
The love one, had known in this.
The fundamental model of investment, a casino;
The thin blue line, used to cover lies;
Yet a man stands to say we will find
The terrorists, and an embassy explodes; a hotel
Burns, and children work away childhoods
Stitching soccer balls for other children.
I must not wait:
I know I’ve forgiven, must forgive
Seven times seventy---and however much
I wonder, “could justice for me
Become justice for some other fellow?”---
I know there is no fairness involved, none promised,
But there is love, there is kindness,
Too much injustice to allow
The good I could do, the benevolence in me
To petrify, to desiccate, to go undone
While for justice I wait.
Truly they love their fascism, they love
It’s part and parcel of the cancer of this debt ridden city.
I wait for the meek to inherit the earth,
But I know, I must serve the meek,
I must be the earth, I must be their inheritance,
Even if some answers
Are never found. Cecil