175 years isn’t enough
pain doesn’t like to be looked at straight on. it’ll distract and deflect and will look in any direction except back into your eyes.
that’s what that judge was doing. she forced pain to sit down in a chair and held its face forward, refusing to let it turn away. then the girls could get right in front of it and stare back at it if they wanted to.
and we all got to watch.
i wasn’t quite sure if i was in the mood to look at the pain of sexual abuse in the eye. but i sat down and heard details and i cried some and when the sentencing came i stared as the prison jumpsuit human sank deeper and deeper into a place few go.
the women speaking their words in his directions felt too good for him.
what can he offer?
he remembers, just like they do.
pain can’t do anything for you except continue to hurt you.
the courtroom. the judge. justice.
what we’re really aiming for is a representation of things wrong made right. but all i felt was its lack and its inability. our human inability to fix ourselves.
a day in court.
an over ruling to say burn in hell,you pathetic piece of shit.
pain all over the courtroom like a toxic spill and on the television and in our living rooms.
rot in prison you personification of human depravity.
look what you’ve done.
we all see now. we all know.
175 years sounds like a cartoon number and he looks like a cartoon character.
he’ll walk to his cell and he’ll still breathe. he’ll remember his library of images and experiences. he’ll continue to violate from behind prison doors.
do i want him dead?
he’s lost everything but still gets new every morning grace.
“evil is unspectacular and always human, and shares our bed and eats at our own table.” – auden
why doesn’t it feel like enough to me?
joshua put it well. he said; we don’t know how to dole out justice. true justice, the deciding of good and evil and the way to repay the consequences of sin, its beyond human capability. we don’t understand. we’re only guessing at it and doing what we think true justice would look like.
this satisfies a little.
true justice for the prison jumpsuit human has not yet been revealed.
if i had to right this wrong or the wrongs done to me or any wrongs, if i had to name the number of years to pay for pain, i’d go crazy afterwards, inconsolable because of my inability to know if it was right, if i’d done it well enough, if it satisfied completely.
so to the women who put an end to this one man’s rampage, i see you as an arrow.
an arrow forged in bravery and vulnerability that points toward a true sentence full of ability to look into the source of pain and do more than imprison, to look back at you and offer more than words of affirmation and money.
an arrow pointing true north towards the god who sees and who is able to do what we can only guess at.