by Laura Strebel

Created on: November 12, 2008

Slowly, the dark thoughts creep

back into my mind.

Thoughts kept under lock and key

for so many years,

the cobwebs had taken on

a life of their own.

Spinning and obscuring realities

until it was difficult

telling one from another.

Thoughts came tumbling up as though

gravity was reversed,

from a deep cold well of the past,

as a silent scream echoed within my mind,

unheard by anyone living,

it rattles my soul, shakes my skeleton

and breaths life back into the hatred.

Years ago I pushed that feeling into the well.

It screeched and fought and tried to climb

the slime on the walls,

gripping the nooks and crannies with

long nails and sharp remarks.

But slipping ever downward to finally be quieted

for a time, and wait

for its release.

It waited patiently, pensively, ever alert

for that crack that would signal its return.

And now, the light, a sliver,

the direction to guide it back.

To what lengths would it go to bother me?

To torment me,

torture me?

And what must I do to vanquish it forever?

Is this a vain battle?

Can I not win

and keep the horribly ugly feeling

of hatred away from me?

To keep my head about me if I see that person

or allow his image to infiltrate my conscious?

I could feel sorry for this person,

maybe,

in a different life.

His lies, the gossip he started

that caused the death of my husband,

finally caused his own family to desert him.

He was exposed at the funeral, in front of

a multitude of well wishers

that knew only of the deceased's demise

and not the circumstances.

I walked into the chapel

at the time reserved for family,

to say our final good-byes

and there he sat,

with his wife, three eldest children,

and a made up look

of concern and sadness.

Did he even care what he had caused?

Did he realize this is not the time, nor the place

for the perpetrator to gloat?

Did he care, the heartbreak he had caused

because of his braggart ego

and the vicious rumors he started?

I dare say, not.

With my son on one arm and

husband's brother on the other

I looked past this person,

sitting so calmly with his family

and gave but one sentence to my caretakers,

"Throw him out".

Calmly, Noblesse oblige, in all manners,

I stepped forward

and took the arm of another,

not waiting until the deed was done,

then preceded with doing honor to

my late husband.

Much later I was told

of the man's arguing, pleading

and finally rage

that he had been embarrassed so,

in public,

in front of his family,

in front of mutual friends,

never giving thought or maybe voice

to the dastardly lies he had created.

Pity he was not pummeled

on the spot.

He was

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