Now softened by
The filter of time and
Short attention spans,
They trot him out
To make small talk,
Fawning over how
Friendly he appears,
Forgetting that this
Is the monster
Born of privilege that
Did so many cruel things
To vulnerable people,
Pandering to the worst
Elements in our society,
Setting the stage for
Where we are today,
A swaggering fraud,
Insecure to the core.
Something must have
Happened to close his mind,
Rendering him unable to
Understand suffering.
Innocence and hope
Dashed at a vulnerable age,
When life should
Be rosy.
A heart drained of its
Ability to feel,
Vitriol replacing
Kindness.
Doing nothing at all
And still enjoying
Each other’s company.
Thoughtful conversations
Imbued with empathy,
Listening, depth.
Silly jokes
About anything
And everything.
The lone frontiersman
Who lives by his
Sheer grit and determination,
Fending for himself
Against all odds,
Not beholden to anyone,
A rugged individualist
Who kowtows to no one,
Takes care of himself
And his own and never
Asks for outside help,
An outdated construct
Invoked to undermine
Social conscience,
The greater good,
Civilized society.
He relives not only
The trauma,
But also the expectation
That it remain a secret
So as not to blemish a
False image of respectability,
Along with being told
It was his fault
In the first place,
That situations like this
Are normal anyway,
Forcibly wiring his forming brain,
Ensuring a lifetime of torment.
It stares back at me
Daring me to do something,
To create anything
Of consequence, some idea
Not previously conceived,
A feeling revealed anew,
Some treasure that
Lends new life to an
Unsuspecting passerby.
An old tree stands
Alone on the edge
Of the pond,
The last one of
His family to enjoy
The gentle breeze
Blowing across the
Water, the birds
Visiting from faraway
Places, the people
Resting in its shade,
The magic of being.
Raised to be
Hard, tough,
Infallible.
A
Flimsy
Facade.
Outwardly
Confident,
Inwardly fragile.
Mom would always
Look stoically into
The distance as
We stood in line
To get that week’s
Staples, handed to
Us in bags, provided
By people we never met
But who had hearts
Able to feel for others
Who might not have
The same opportunities
As them or who are
Where they once were.
