A stolen jewel
can be found
and returned to
the neck of a queen,
but
there is nothing
taken from my heart
that can be replaced.

A racist novel
can be thrown
into a fire
and burnt to a crisp,
but
there is nothing
said about my worth
that can be silenced.

A hardened heart
can meet death
and removed from
the space where I live,
but
there is nothing
suffered by my soul
that can be forgotten.

That which has been taken
That which has been said
That which has been suffered
must all be carried,
either as an albatross of hatred
that impedes all growth,
or on the wings of forgiveness
that heal my soul.