The Truth

When I live in a place
Where eyes aren’t afraid
To meet in halls
Or on the streets
Or buses
Maybe then we’ll see
Teary eyes and sallow faces
Or maybe we’ll see smiles.
And then I won’t be afraid

When I am not afraid
To show courage
To not look away from cupped hands
To not change the channel
Or radio station
Silencing cries for help
Or be ashamed to beg and cry myself
Maybe then I’ll prefer the taste of kindness
To cynicism
And find my integrity

And when I have the integrity
To speak
To not laugh when I know I shouldn’t
To act when I know I should
And to get up when I fall
Maybe then I can live

And when I find that I can live
And believe the world is good
And full of second chances
That’s when I’ll wake up

Were I a shepard who watched over and loved his sheep dearly,
what would I do if one were snatched by a wolf and ripped apart?

Would I grieve and bury the sheep
Build strong, tall fences around my pastures
And watch the outside fields, wondering if the wolf was still out there
Hoping that it would never come again and starve?
Would I let the memory die
Be thankful for the sheep I had
Take the moral high road,
Realize the good and evil within nature,
And keep my shepards robes dirty with honest labor?

Would I curse the wolf with hatred
Sharpen my hunting knife to a deadly edge
And lace it lovingly with poison,
as and artist would delicately detail his canvas
And wait in bushes hidden by night,patiently watching my
trap crafted with care and skill
Until I heard the beast's cry pierce the night in agony
And saunter out to the writhing beast and drive it's face in the dirt
And I twist my knife into it's neck as it twisted its fangs into my lamb
And watch it die
My robes stained with blood?

Sometimes, I look in the mirror and see two faces that vacillate in the constant light. And I know that both of those faces are true.