Now there is only this hollow and scary place where peace and love can begin to grow
I didn’t say anything for such a long time and then, last night, I wrote him a letter with no love in it, a response to his unkindness to me. Some of my friends told me things to the effect of wishing him peace, putting a sort of Buddhist mantra on him, sending him good vibes, rising above the shit. I don’t believe in that, and I had no good will to give. This is not the place or at least not the time to reprint the letter I wrote, but what I needed to send him was honesty and all the vitriol building up in me for weeks, thinking of how I had never responded to him. People say that what people need is encouragement, but sometimes what they need is the truth, what some people need to be told is the truth of who they are, or at least your truth of what they did to you. I did it. I have said the final word, there is nothing left to be done.
And now I forgive him. Now he is the past, not to be blotted out and erased, but to be the seed and the soil from which something else can grow. He is the past from which some redemption can be sought. And oddly enough, as I wish for that redemption I find myself wishing him… peace.
<< Home