I am slit by the knife.
Fumed with fury, I grabbed it like a lamb to the slaughter.
Unyielding to its pleas, I grabbed it even tighter,
No letting go, no letting in.
The firmer I held,
The more I had my fill of revenge.
Alas, I opened my palms,
But the knife is unbent,
And my flesh, un-nerved.
Again, I am still as angry as I was in the beginning…
What again has the knife done?
Do I grip it once more?
Maybe this time with my left palm?
Maybe this time it can feel my pain?
Because that is all I have left; my wrath has left me….
I look into the knife,
I see my image, glistering beneath the stream of blood I had shed over the knife.
At fury once again,
It was me all along….
This poem expresses the offense and fury of man when we are offended or wrongly affected. Our innate reaction is usually to fight back, and when we embark on this impulsive journey, the more our fury builds up and bitterness springs out.
Later, we come to know that our determination to hold on to unforgiveness has made us our own offender. And if we can look just a bit closely, we realize that we had the control all along (It was me all along….).
How much more would you hurt yourself? Will you learn to forgive and let go?