Who are We
Rich and poor,
black and white,
male and female,
young and old,
urban and rural,
red and blue,
greedy and content,
outgoing and shy,
loved and loving.
The ways we can divide ourselves are legion.
We can focus on these concepts, on these discriminations,
Or we can focus on our most common bonds.
We can focus on our humanity, on our children, on our parents.
We can focus on our hopes and on our aspirations.
We can focus on our mutual need to be loved
and to be loving.
But in truth, we will focus on our need to gain power,
on our need to pay the bills,
on our need to paint the wood on the fascia.
We will focus on those who offend us,
and on those who don't agree with us.
We will focus on the guy that runs the light,
and the woman who can't make up her mind.
We will focus on the child that yells too much like a child,
and the bumb who bothers us with his plea for money,
so he can drink himself a little closer to death.
We will focus on our partner who walked out the door,
or the boy friend that lied about his business trips.
Today, I visited with my mother.
I suppose visit is the wrong word.
At 81, she no longer has a mind in this world.
She is happy it seems, decked out with her jewels,
and fake hair, and clothes that still fit quite well.
She is like a rose that has dropped all of its blossoms.
Yet, she still stands tall, oblivious to her fallen glory.
I watched her eyes today as she looked from the restaurant
perched on a high hill overlooking the watery vista.
She took it in and it went somewhere.
I just don't know where.
Outside, she remarks about how beautiful the clouds are.
And how blue the sky.
Mostly, she speaks in an automated language programmed long ago.
I rubbed her shoulders, and arms, and neck today
as she watched the Masters,
dutifully reading every word on the screen,
laughing often, and so glad to be alive.
The doctors say her mind is gone.
They just don't know where.