and where its edges and beginnings are.
what path does a twisted mind travel
that can explain taking pride
in the slaying of innocents
what slight was so great that
it warrants wanton murder
I cannot, nor can most of us, fathom it. Yet, I must explore my own reaction to the
carnage I witness daily through the remorselessly intense media coverage of
such events. What do I feel? I feel a mad and all-consuming rage. I cannot talk of the scenes I saw and heard
about without moist eyes and a thickening throat.
Thoughts, like turgid dirty waters, wend their way through
my mind. Drawing and quartering is too
good for him. I’m glad he’s dead; if he’d lived I’d hope he’d never make it to
the courtroom, that he’d be blown away and
rendered so much bloody pulp upon the pavement.
I’m not alone in these thoughts.
I’ve heard them voiced out loud.
I can only nod – I understand. Our
thoughts are so unclean, so unkind, and yet how like our kind - humankind.
There dwells in each of us the potential for murder and
mayhem - good and evil. We daily
foray. We parry and weigh the
outcomes. It is a fine line between love
and hate; tolerance and rage; life and death; sanity and insanity. Even the cloak of christian charity and
forgiveness is thin and tattered comfort against the gale that assails this
land of ours. Will we add our venomous
breath to that assault? Will we allow
our judgement to falter, or can we maintain the grace to meet out justice? Can we take a page from gospel, and forgive him
for his crime and ourselves for contemplating in kind?
I have no answer, only questions. I want to know. Where is the edge of madness, that I might
skirts it farthest hem, and gods forbid I venture in. If I do, where will it end?
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