he got his pound of flesh, but lost an ounce of peace

he got his pound of flesh, but lost an ounce of peace

“a virtue for the weak”, he said, “is
forgiveness. an undeserved act of
mercy. serve no useful purpose.” adamantly

he resolved to not be swayed by a mistake, &
the apologies that succeed them. in cork-tight

fists, he held cactuses of senseless grudges, &
vehemently knocked out every attempt to
accept apologies when they were

offered. he’d not–never–forgive. he believed
in scorpion stings for cactus thorns. punches
for slaps. poisonous words for malicious

thoughts. peace, an option extinct with
the dinosaurs. he was consumed

by pointless pride & possessed by righteous anger bull-eye’d on how he was wronged,

misunderstood, hurt, crushed, betrayed,
owed, defrauded, so he swore–on his

trampled ego–a fool never to be again. he gave

wings to the snail-pace limbs of karma &
hastened to avenge himself, or die

trying. whatever it takes, to have the
last laugh, he must do. he won. all…

who wronged him never got it right.
who misunderstood him were misconstrued.
who hurt him were badly broken.
who crushed him were shred in pieces.
who betrayed him were sold for peanuts.
who owed him were indebted for life.
who defrauded him were scammed seven times.

although he gained the blood-tinted satisfaction of swift revenge
he lost the perfect peace that forgiveness
freely bequests

because

he couldn’t crawl out of the depth of his pain [the burden of earned trust] which littered the taunting shadows of doubt
on the torn fabric his own worth.

he couldn’t win the battle against
pride, & fear. nor could be meet the
basic need to let go,
& free himself from the yoke
of back-breaking grudges.

don’t be like him. forgive; learn to.