That Other Man...

I must take a wee bit of thy time and tell thee of a man who I made the acquaintance of this morn. I am sure you know him well...yes, that man. You know, that man, the one down the street. His clothes, no doubt, are from the 90's, he has a weird way he walks, and even a funny sounding rasp in his voice when he talks. What ever did his wife see in him to marry such a man; he's not even a wealthy man, for a wealthy man, we know, would not look so!

You know that man, that other man, he's old and lives alone, always a smile he has for the children in the neighborhood but they all are warned to stay away from such an one, for truly, he could not care about them; a pervert on the inside must he be!

And that other man, you know the one, sick and maybe dying from a rare illness. He should have known better than to travel the world round and bring back a sickness for us to share.

O yes, and I grimace to call him a man, but you know that “thing”; I saw him today, even the barbed wire and iron bars did not abate my uneasy feeling. I'm glad he wears orange! They should just shoot him and save a buck...I heard that he killed some other man!

But don't forget that other man, you know the one, yes that's him, driving his exotic car. Oh how I'd love to be his friend; his house is big and he's got a “ton” of money! If I had such wealth I'd never work again nor be bothered with all the little things in life!

And I could tell for hours about that other man, you know the one, yes I'm sure you know him well. You will find him all around the world, lands far and near. I hear some are a bit too queer, some I'd love to hate and others I'd hate to love, but they are all just that other man; nothing at all like me! You see I have feelings inside this heart of mine. I laugh and cry, love and care; you see there is me inside of here, skin over muscle, muscle over bone; my color I can not change, my eyes are mine, a nose that to me alone belongs. I've been rich, I've been poor; I've been wise, I've been a fool; I've helped and I've hurt. I just want to be happy, I just want to be me, without a facade to hide behind and make you think I'm some other man!

Now standing in front of the looking glass I see that I'm just another man; yes, that other man, just like the rest of them; here we stand just like all other men. You see we have feelings inside these hearts of ours, we laugh and cry, love and care; you see there is us inside of here, skin over muscle, and muscle over bone all to protect our hearts so dear. Why O why have we let our looks become a snare, why do we not love our own flesh and blood, how have we come to treat with indifference all men who are just like us...All we are the same to Him who loved us and gave his own self to save all men everywhere!

Shamelessly Robbed!

As I my pen take up, 'tis with heavy heart, the gloomy pain bringing a pinched face... you see, today I was robbed, shamelessly robbed...

The day dawned as any other one, bright with the full radiance of the sun warming the earth below, all seeming so normal this fateful day. This tradesman busy all the light through at his cheerful toil, working for a better tomorrow, the days productivities having come to an end, I now donned my clean outer coat and headed off to the busy marketplace; to acquire provisions of food, for life and festivities, I had come. Some provisions for me, some for my dear friends, but all for someone. As I made my way through the market gathering the prescribed items, many a face I saw, many a story lay behind each one, and should I have another direction turned, one story I had not read nor wrote this one of mine, my life unchanged would have remained; but straight ahead I scurried into an ambush by the thief. My eyes dancing back and forth were scanning the passing faces, one by one. All of the sudden there it was, the face of the thief, disinterestedly pushing her trolley through the marketplace, greatly shielding her life from the world around her. My dancing eyes fastened on her face, they lit up, my mouth curved upward into a smile, but suddenly with shuddering speed my world stood still, no recognition, no response, no smile returned, no, not even her head did she raise up to meet my eyes; my gaze I did not loose while I passed her by, in her downward stare I saw an aching hollow pain.  She had robbed me... robbed me of the joy of her reception of my smile, bestowed only on her. She also robbed me of a response at least, and a smile at best... In a daze I shuffled off to pay my bill to the merchantman. Pain gripping at my heart, I began to see that I had become a victim; a victim of a victim. Her joy another had stolen, shamelessly stolen from her. So as I retired from the scene of the marketplace my sadness did not abate nor diminish, although a strong resolve began to come alongside, for to rob another, as I had been, would only make me a thief and that I shall not be even in the name of  a “victim”. The victim only becomes the victimizer at the behest of their will. So to smile I shall and to recognize I will!

Rob not thy neighbor of recognition at least, and joy at best, for perhaps that is all we may ever share and receive to brighten our world here below.