My personal revenge will be your children’s
right to schooling and to flowers.
My personal revenge will be this song
bursting for you with no more fears.
My personal revenge will be to make you see
the goodness in my people’s eyes,
implacable in combat always
generous and firm in victory.
My personal revenge will be to greet you
“Good morning!” in streets with no beggars,
when instead of locking you inside
they say, “Don’t look so sad!”
When you, the torturer,
daren’t lift your head.
My personal revenge will be to give you
these hands you once ill-treated
with all their tenderness intact.
(Song based on words by Tomas Borge addressed to his jaliers and torturers. After the triumph of the Nicaraguan revolution in 1979, Tomas Borge became Minister for the Interior and, famously, had his revenge in forgiving them)
From Poems for Refugees (London: Vintage: 2002), 181-2.
I can think of few poems which express what I wish for in a world of such dangerous jagged edges as ours. And as it is Remembrance Sunday, without further comment, I include a photo of Bennachie and Poppies.
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