Sitting in a courtroom alone
on a September morning,
clutching the verse Isaiah 41:10,
the dampness of my hand tires the ink
as I hear truths never told,
perhaps in some deep, dark corner
Sitting in front of a laptop
on a February afternoon,
violent heart thundering beneath my breast
as I break into your email account for the
the last time.
You don’t live here anymore,
you don’t LIVE anywhere anymore.
I wonder does the brightness of your orange suit
keep you up at night
the way fear and dread once held my sleep hostage.
Sitting in my bed alone
on this February morning,
the last 21 months
a tragically wondrous time of
uncovered truths and free expression,
a life reclaimed,
no, a life reborn.
absolutely, no regret
and no forgiveness.
I know all the reasons I should.
Hell, I want to forgive,
but I don’t.
I cannot give what I do not have.
Forgiveness for you just does not exist.
Perhaps some other morning,
but not today.