| Appearance is a master we choose to serve, And to a civil appearance we cater. Anger is not pretty, accepted, or admired - So we hide it and save it for later. In time we choose a person to accuse, And we tell others what he's feeling - "Malice, pride, thoughtlessness" we assert, But it's our own heart we're revealing. So, thinking we know his thoughts and motives, (Yet never having known him) With lynch rope in hand, toward him we rush - Shouting, "Let's go and get him!" We coldly ignore his cries for truth, While turning our eyes from his look of despair. With anger burning hot, the rope is pulled taut - And we soundly kick out the chair. Then, while the lifeless body swings, We convince ourselves that anger is appeased. But, given enough time, we will lynch again, Because anger wasn't satisfied - only teased. Afterward, we continue our pious lives With our civil appearance intact, Filled with pride, convinced we were right, Believing our own fiction - instead of fact. In life's classroom I've seen people lynched, And I've seen helpless bodies burned. Through it all I've studied and watched, And here is the lesson I've learned: Guilt is at home in the heart of the guilty - Not in the hearts of others. Injustice occurs when we take guilt in hand And assign it to innocent brothers. 6-14-00 |
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