An end...

I heard that Brett’s murderers have been sentenced.
It’s hard to think of them as people, with faces.
I realize that all along I saw these-
(I still don’t know what to call them, I can’t say men, or even people) -
they were poisonous scum on the bottom of Apartheid Legacy’s boot.
No face. They were the poor turned sick turned evil. No hope.
They were victims before and that’s why... But no.
Not monsters, not abstract concepts- they're people, maybe boys even.
How can they, I mean how could they, I mean why
Where were their mothers? Where were their fathers? Do they know…
And I tell you that humanizing them makes me hate them.
I couldn't hate a fairytale monster, even though it lurks behind every concealed driveway or walking route or dimly lit scum breading crevice.
Sure I’m scared of it, we all are when we let ourselves be...
But two people, two boys one night who killed my friends, if I let myself-
I’d hate them.
I’d hate them so much for being the last people
to look into my friends’ eyes.
I’d hate them for not seeing all the beauty in those eyes
and sparing their lives.
I feel like if I saw them I’d do something crazy like punch them madly with my clenched fists and scream “give me my friend back”!
But bringing people back is more impossible than taking them away.
Maybe the murderers will realize when they meet karma, or G-d.
Or maybe now, as they sit in prison...
As Brett and Richard rest somewhere in heaven.
And as we wander about on the southern tip of Africa hoping that the monster, or the boys who went evil, don’t come for us.