(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Who Gave Whom Permission To Leave...?

After years of dodging rolling eyes,
Open and wide...
Above tightly pressed and frowning lips,
To feel the sting from this from accusations made...
Intentionally directed towards me,
As if to be a target to hit...
By those who chose to remain uninformed.
But regardless of this they enjoyed every bit of it,
I admit those times were difficult...
To maintain to keep established relationships.
With heartbreak to acknowledge them ended.

To now have those approach me with apologies,
I don't know what they expect from me.
Should I be expected to forgive and forget?
Are you implying in time I will have regrets?

'Well...
IF I were you,
I would at least pretend your feelings have mended.'

Oh, I have healed and completely mended.
However...
Pretending to be unaffected with emotions left and kept,
I simply can not forget the effect.
Or those who directed their animosities.

'But others were affected to regret with wishes to forget.'

I accept that.
But who had to sit through the entire scene to be demeaned?
Who gave whom permission to leave...?
With an intermission to relax and breathe freely,
Before more of their doings continued with obscenities?

'Comeon...
Show them you are 'Christian'.'

I did that before they sent me to the lions.
You know...
With the turning the cheek and that meek business.
And I thank God,
The lions only had an interest in teaching me how to roar.

by Lawrence S. Pertillar

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