Her tears have drenched her soul,
burying the hatchet in rivulets
running red, bloody gouges
brimming with magna-cum-laude
.
(degree earned in the school of
hard knocks, awarded posthumously to
the candidate least alive). Only
genuine, soul-stirring mourning could
.
wash away such agony; only
marianas trench could hold
such fathomless suffering –
and yet, forgiveness dyes
.
her bandages as surely as
the sun continues to rise
and set on the just and the
unjust alike. God only knows
.
what it has cost her to forgive.
God only knows what it cost Him
to give her the choice. Tears
cauterise the gashes
.
and rise, wave upon wave
as pure as air, a mighty flood
(pregnant with undercurrent)
to wash her to Freedom.

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