March 20, 2017

A man sitting,
the icy concrete pushes back against his flesh.
alone in the dim light, waiting,
those who he took away,
cleansing them of their sins,
he wonders why he must be punished for his deeds
he thinks:
what use is it locking him away?
there are millions more of him.
what’s cutting off one hair?
taking only a single step in a long journey?
what difference does it make?
him locked away, yet those who still roam free,
he stands up, dust falling from his orange jumpsuit,
walks to the door,
no one will look at him,
like his victims they misunderstand his intentions
to save, not to harm,
without sorrow, without remorse, he takes it all in one last time

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