My hatreds have mostly mellowed
into distains and disappointments,
and I breathe more freely for it.
The uncaring, venal attempts against
my amour propre and well being
seem largely cockroach incursions
rather than violent home invasions.
I can now remark on the death of
someone distasteful and selfish
with sympathy for a failed life,
and with only residual rancor
at his polluting effects on others.
And those who maintain hate of me
are fully entitled to be misbegotten.
Ed Ahern
Ed Ahern resumed writing after forty odd years in foreign intelligence and international sales. He’s had over five hundred fifty stories and poems published so far, and twelve books. Ed works the other side of writing at Bewildering Stories, where he squats on the review board.