I didn’t provoke your violence by advocating tolerance.

I DIDN’T MAKE YOU PUNCH ME

We both said things. We can agree on that.
I want to say
We both said things we regret
but I’m not sure you do. I feel the regret,
at least. Not only for what I said
but the rage ripping open my blood vessels
to strangle my lungs — thump-thump —
The gurgling they make as they gasp
and the words come as such a relief,
the pounding slows, the cords relax as
the venom leaves my body to inhabit the air.

But you have to admit that my blog post
didn’t start it. Electing a woman to be bishop.
Marrying two men who love each other.
Simply saying we should see the murder of
any black boy as a tragedy. These didn’t instigate
the hate which leapt out of your body.

I didn’t provoke your violence by advocating tolerance.

Don’t pin this one on me.
I’ll accept my own violent response, the murderous hate
in my heart which repays violence in kind,
the doubled outrage and tripled hurt. I’ll accept
the ways I’ve continued the cycle and the ways
I refuse to help you calm down. All the pain
I’ve caused directing my hate at you feels justified,
just the cycle of violence revisiting us like
a drunk looking for sex, intimacy, a safe bed.

I’ll take all that I’m responsible for, but not this blame.
What I did was encourage love and tolerance,
wear a dress, stand up for the powerless,
or give hope to the stranger. These don’t start fights.
I didn’t make you punch me. All I did was invite you
to see how beautiful the world could truly be.