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			Revenge 
 
At times ... I wish 
I could meet in a duel 
the man who killed my father 
and razed our home, 
expelling me 
into 
a narrow country. 
 
And if he killed me, 
I’d rest at last, 
and if I were ready— 
I would take my revenge! 
 
* 
 
But if it came to light, 
when my rival appeared, 
that he had a mother 
waiting for him, 
or a father who’d put 
his right hand over 
the heart’s place in his chest 
whenever his son was late 
even by just a quarter-hour 
for a meeting they’d set— 
then I would not kill him, 
even if I could. 
 
* 
 
Likewise ... I 
would not murder him 
if it were soon made clear 
that he had a brother or sisters 
who loved him and constantly longed to see him. 
Or if he had a wife to greet him 
and children who 
couldn’t bear his absence 
and whom his gifts would thrill. 
Or if he had 
friends or companions, 
neighbors he knew 
or allies from prison 
or a hospital room, 
or classmates from his school... 
asking about him 
and sending him regards. 
 
* 
 
But if he turned 
out to be on his own— 
cut off like a branch from a tree— 
without a mother or father, 
with neither a brother nor sister, 
wifeless, without a child, 
and without kin or neighbors or friends, 
colleagues or companions, 
then I’d add not a thing to his pain 
within that aloneness— 
not the torment of death, 
and not the sorrow of passing away. 
Instead I’d be content 
to ignore him when I passed him by 
on the street—as I 
convinced myself 
that paying him no attention 
in itself was a kind of revenge. 
 
Nazareth 
April 15, 2006 
 
Taha Muhammad Ali
		 
		
		
		
		
		
		
			
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				If you would only recognize that life is hard, things would be so much easier for you.  
 - Louis D. Brandeis
			 
		
		
		
		
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