Miscreants beggared me, voiding (in) my cupped hands; once adequately filled sufficiently for sustenance. Not that I object. But for others, who’s lives ended prematurely for want of medical attention, or suicide, etc. . . especially those homeless now. I belabor the issue.
And even now of my father, years afterward, I would say; “Thank You!” Even though I suspect he thought - No! I know - he presumed me insane. And for whom I suspect his misunderstanding of my avidity; seeking love from someone who knew nothing of it, save a slogan on a brand of toilet paper or lurid novel. . . . the dart of his disdain and dismissal, nominal melioration, with his last breathe given on a borrowed cellular telephone.
Death holds no fear for me, but dying slowly - by attrition, does. A moment ago I called to assess the feasibility of visiting a friend who had so lingered for near a year or more in my attention. Sadly. No longer allowed to visit save at risk of meeting the person responsible for my absence, I hopped around one foot to another too long.
Nothing, and no one, is lost within all the universe; save being for me a page, no, a large swath torn from the cyclorama of my psyche in the ordinary of my life; mourned. Scarred, healed, I struggle on.
My intention, before the news, just received, to share what small sanity I possess, attributable to the kindness of strangers. In her case, became an intimate confidant and friend. What saved me from shredding from sole to hair follicle the one who dismissed me!? A Sufi once spoke of crossing the chasm upon a thread but now sensed, as on thin air. Again, in her case, her last words to me, our fingers intertwined; “Keep the Faith . . . . “ and I will, as I’ve done, but to not one - but The All, the author of all prophets, my apprehension of what they sought.
My point? Kindness is something free and easily given; a word, smile, gesture or the mere; “I see you!” In passing, brief of long. It may be the only kindness, as in my case I’d ever known. Best: a touch.
For now.
Forever.
Riot in words, she collected quotes as well. The blossoms of those who cared to give their best - themselves - remembering there is no love in a clenched fist.
. . . if nothing else, prayer, like kindness, changes the giver of it eternally.
Be well.
PS In the name of greed, America’s current religion, murder is committed daily.
20130316 11:34 miscreants
© 2013 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
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