You've been walked past, in your state of brokenness.
As scoundrels pass, your tissue paper heart rips by harsh winds of dismissal.
While hurricanes of assumption define their thoughts and mold their judgments.
A post-it note stating 'Crazy' they've stuck to your weathered forehead, with uncanny fate. They don't even know the love and beauty that weathered skin has seen.
Doomed. They cast upon you with their glances.
Failure. They resonate with haughty eyes, as if you've brought this upon yourself.
Selfish fear replaces the selfless simplicity of boldness we know as love.
You've seen it all. The Indian with his lucky coin. The ex-soldier with his nostalgic rings. The aimless wanderer with his coffee cup, his stories, and his addiction to nothing other than adventure. Jesus. When will your people see you? We ask to see you. But we don't even want to sometimes.
You are the man with the torn backpack in front of Target. You are the women at the corner of Betteravia and the freeway. You are the child sleeping in the strawberry fields.
May selflessness replace bonds of fear. May hope move past thoughts of dismissal. May we see you like we've never dared to see you before.
