47)
You would never know
just by looking at someone
and you could never really tell
what they think about,
how they really feel,
what they know
or where they have been
or what they have seen.
No one ever knows
or sees the invisible scars
or sees the unseeable sickness,
like the concealed moments
or the memories of madness
that left them wounded
long ago.
And no,
no one can tell,
just by looking at someone
and somehow,
they can see
or that somehow
they can decipher or have the right
to point out the facts of say
an unspoken abuse
or the blood that never bled
but only boiled from a standpoint
of personal despair.
I have seen a popular quote
and I have read the words that say
. . . . everyone is fighting a battle
you know nothing about –
So, be kind . . .
Always.
I wonder how often
we take this into consideration,
or if at all,
I wonder how many of us
truly listen
or apply this idea
to our everyday life.
I wonder about the word stigma,
in which,
this too is mainly unseeable,
or more like a label, this is noticed
for a reason, or mainly
this is noticed in the seeable forms
of say, skin, background, culture,
education, status, and more
or perhaps I should say
furthermore,
I wonder how kind people are
when the time comes,
and their life is somehow inconvenienced
because someone around them
has no other choice
but to march to the beat
of a different drum.
It’s easy to be kind or considerate
when all is well . . .
However, encounter adversity
and then
we can measure you for who you are
scars or no scars
stigma, or just plain truth.
48)
Yes,
I have been followed
I have been accused
both accurately and wrongfully.
I have been judged and prejudged
and I have equally been misjudged
and guided by some
and misrepresented by others.
I have my way
and I have my life
and also,
I have my mild to moderate list of flaws
or defects, and imperfections.
It has been said to me
no differently from how
this has been told to others
that yes, it is true –
a leopard cannot change its spots
and yes, I have spots.
I have scars to which,
I have both kinds;
visible, and unseeable.
I fell between the nargins
or the columns
and I am part of this thing
We call, the so-called human race.
Both literally, figuratively
and statistically
as well.
I have stains on my soul
and blood on my hands
and admittedly,
I have a list of sins
that run longer than the page.
And equally,
I have a list of mistakes,
regrets, mishaps,
misfortunes, and same as anyone else
who sins,
I have a list of attributes
and a list of qualities,
which of course;
all of this
is what makes me,
me . . .
Or better,
this makes me free
because no one has the right
to judge me,
and even if they do
or if someone believes they have the right
whether they judge me rightfully,
or objectively, or even
if they judge me consecutively
and place me in the prisons of their minds
and hold me captive,
like a criminal in their heart,
I am no better nor worse
and I have scars and secrets too,
just like you.
49)
I often think about the story
behind the tax collector
and the Pharisee
who complained to The Son of Man
about how the tax collector prayed
and equally, I think about how
the Pharisee said what he did
and how the Pharisee boasted about
the way he lived by the law, so pios
and devout,
and in accordance with the law,
the Pharisee prayed,
and he gave, and he did
as he was taught to do.
The tax collector,
on the other hand
he was not this way;
however, the tax collector knew about
the presence of God
and in all humility,
the tax collector still prayed
despite his title
or his scars
or his otherwise
unknown life,
and while facing the Temple
the tax collector beat his chest
with his fist
and said,
bless me Father,
a sinner.
The Son of Man said to the Pharisee
“That man will go home
justified before the GOd,
before you.”
Pride . . . it’s a real bitch.
You know?
And all those who exalt themselves
or see their life
as righteous,
they too,
will know humility
someday.
I am not righteous
I am only me—and so,
just like the tax collector,
I say
Bless me, Father,
a sinner,
so that I can go home
or be welcomed somewhere
and be justified
or at minimum
just let me go beyond those who persecute me
and justify
themselves,
as if they were better
than me.
50)
I have to lay down my arms
and let go of the knife in my tongue sometimes,
yet,
I am sheep amongst wolves at times,
which does not permit me to growl
or snap at
at the rest of my flock,
nor am I free to judge
nor persecute
because just like me
everyone is fighting a battle
that no one else can see
including me,
which means more than
just, “be kind.”
or be civil.
If I am to find peace
then yes, perhaps
just like everybody else
I have to practice
what I preach,
or even better,
maybe it’s time to stop preaching . . .
Or like my old friend Mikey
once said to me at the farm
decades ago –
Maybe it’s time for you
to get off your high horse
and walk awhile, pal.
Mikey was right . . .
but I forget him sometimes
especially, when my feelings are hurt
or my pride gets in the way.
See?
You would never know
just by looking at me
but I have unseeable things too,
just like you do.
The Written Addiction 