The Coat Over the Evidence (Forgiving)

Lyrics

The stain is on the floorboards by the door.
The letter is on the table, face down.
The argument still hangs in the air like dust in a sunbeam.
And the coat is on the hook. Heavy, wool.

It was Munich, December, 1947.
The church hall smelled of old wood and varnish.
And the man who held the keys to Ravensbrück...
held out his hand.
Corrie ten Boom said her own went cold, a stone.
She couldn't lift it.
She prayed for the strength, not for him, but for her.
Just to will her arm to move.

And that’s the work.
To take the coat from the hook.
Not to clean the floor, not to burn the letter.
Just to walk over, deliberate, and lay the coat over the evidence.
It doesn't make it disappear. You can still see the shape of the thing.
But you’ve chosen what to look at now.
You’ve sent it away. Aphiemi.

It was February 11th, 1990.
The sun was a shock after twenty-seven years.
The roar of the crowd, a different kind of wall.
He could have used his right to strike back.
Could have turned the microphone in that humid school hall
into a weapon.
Instead, he spoke of a second chance.
Liberating the soul by removing the fear.

And that’s the work.
To take the coat from the hook.
Not to clean the floor, not to burn the letter.
Just to walk over, deliberate, and lay the coat over the evidence.
It doesn't make it disappear. You can still see the shape of the thing.
But you’ve chosen what to look at now.
You’ve sent it away. Aphiemi.

It's not always Robben Island.
It's not always a guard from a past life.
Sometimes it's just the Tuesday you can't take back.
The word that left a crack in the plaster.
History doesn't record the quiet bargains made with the mirror.
The small, heavy coats for the small, sharp stones.

The coat is on the floor now.
Dark wool over the unsaid thing.
The room is colder.
And warmer.