In my culture when a person is dead they are burned, that how it is, that how it should be. Yet in forgetting forgiveness, in holding on to their hate, their anger so many come to lie in their funeral pyres long before their time. Flames recognizing neither the dead nor alive consume a man all the same. It is up to a man how he wants to meets that fire, at peace and at rest or in a state of turmoil and alive.

While I am glad I sit in Canada far removed from the Charlottesville protests, one cannot help but look at whats happening. I can sympathize with the white supremacists to a certain extent. I understand times are changing things, things you have enjoyed are being taken away, it would be terrifying no doubt. The sympathy I extend is the same the same sympathy I extend to a child’s terror when a light in a room suddenly shuts off, where it was on. It is your fear, your lack of¬†education or lack of knowledge that provokes my sympathy, not your cause. Yet I find the protest silly, the ideals of equality, tolerance and diversity scare them so much, that it takes so much away from them. Their anger is misdirected why blame the treatment? Blame the disease of racism that requires such a bitter and harsh treatment, if so much was not given earlier on that was not yours to take, not so much would need be given back now. If the attempting to end racism is so brutal bloody then so to was bloody and brutal the process of its unchecked growth on humanity.

Vengeance

There is no joy in revenge, it is but the path of emptiness, the path of utter poverty. In marching down it I have brought my enemy suffering as they did me, yet it is I who feels who wronged, who is being robbed of peace. I traded away the bitter pill of forgiveness for the sweet poison of vengeance.