When you see one who once long hated you, still does-
and only helps you out of legal obligation
quid pro quo-
not of goodness, or swelling heart.
now in torment themselves- broken
injured, sick, staph infected,weak..
though he can still make a fist.
Is it my mercy that makes him now meek? Which is truth, which part?
I never fought back with cast iron pan-
but baked him cakes with marzipan.
So-is my help kindness or guilt?
To those who would throw stones:
I say ” aim for the head”-it is quicker
though no matter how tall,
the small always aim for the heart.
Is it is true charity or will I not admit
Is seeing him suffer its own reward?
and if it is and he can tell-
Then…How is it
I am the only one now trusted?
the only one they will deal with
in this abject, humiliating state?
Does it mean that they are so hated
and perhaps deservingly so-
that no one else can or will help them,
that they don’t trust even their ‘friends’?
What history will not forgive, it will transcend.
Was it because
his definition/behavior of real ‘hate’
was more constant, sharper ,and narrower
than mine ever was?
Could it be..
He loves the world and all it contains
food, money, power
– hates only me?
So I cut up his food, drive him, and make up his bed
put aside the fact he wishes I were dead.
There’s no resentment in my face-
a blood bond brings monastic grace.
Perhaps all of these things are true.
I don’t need reasons or reward
that don’t matter anymore.
They still ask why.
I helped him because I chose to.
Because it was right.
Because I pitied him then.
because he is my child’s father-
it was all that was left
that I could do.
That was reason enough.