She cries at the
Most trivial moments,
Everyone around her
Notices that it
Doesn’t quite fit
With what’s really
Going on at the time,
Memories of the
Anguish she felt as
A child bubble up
Relentlessly,
Unacknowledged,
Unattended.
She lives this way
Her entire life,
It colors her
Worldview deeply.
Tears well up in his eyes,
Not for reasons pure.
Visible to all but the unreceptive,
A lifetime of indulgence.
Some shout at the top of their lungs,
Nothing to see here.
The boys’ club furiously
Protecting its own.
Nothing will stop them,
There’s power at stake.
Arrogance in the face of truth,
Bristling when discovered.
No justice will be done today,
Nor ever from this cabal.
An old photograph reminds
Him of when he cared way too
Much about what other people
Thought about him.
He smiles, remembering
Those directionless days when
He didn’t realize
That there was much more to
Aspire to than
The clothes he wore,
Car he drove,
Area he lived in,
Friends he had, or whatever
Superficial image he
Was trying to project.
Many years have passed and
He has put very little work
Into growing,
Still trying to catch the eye of
Anyone looking his way,
Dazzle them with his superficiality.
One small action,
A smile,
Hug,
Word of encouragement,
Helping hand,
Can change everything,
Gentle ripples of
Kindness,
Love,
Healing the world,
Changing
The course of history,
Humanity.
Such a nice boy,
Subjected to constant
Suppression and domination
Over so many years.
His hopefulness fractures,
He loses his ability to
Feel for himself or others
And becomes what he
Swore he never would.
When there is
A profit motive,
We endure
Permanent war,
More people rot
In prison longer,
Vital services are
Slashed to cut costs,
Regulations are ignored,
Altruism is kicked
In the face,
General well-being
Is sacrificed to
Line a few
Avaricious pockets,
Corruption and cronyism
Are the norm,
Everything becomes
More expensive.
Thinking punitively,
That’s all she knows,
All actions directed
At protecting the
Tenuous sense of
Safety she struggles
Mightily to maintain,
Everything is
A possible attacker
Who must be
Defended against.
She manages to
Consistently err on
The side of overreaction,
Striking preemptively
Instead of offering
The benefit of the doubt
Or some semblance
Of kindness, trust.
Quaint cottage on
A towering cliff,
Small garden,
A single tree,
Having coffee together
Looking out the window.
She leaves and is
Never seen again.
Nobody talks about it
But they’re pretty
Sure what happened.
Each day much the same
As the last, continuous
Small victories culminating
In something yet to be
Revealed. Unable to see
Anything beyond the maze,
Unconcerned, peaceful, calm,
Confidence of purpose,
The knowledge that
Everything will be okay
On this path.
