Sensitive – A poem


We as people have grown so used to groaning at the limitations of others,
Did you know that he came to office late yesterday…? We say.
Did you hear about what he did the other day…? We whisper
Isn’t it funny …? We deal with imperfections by Gossip which we justify as information,
we express bravado when they are not there, when in real life we can’t affect them in the way that they affect us,
If some of us have a temper, we attack, but again, the truth is that we can’t bear what it does to us.
We are defensive about the hurt inflicted on us by others,
we term it disobedience but in all truth, we can’t bear it when someone talks ill of us,
but we all do it, don’t we… Some of us with evil intent, the other just to vent.
When other people mock and scowl at us,
we hurt and linger, but we cover it up and move on like there is no message there,
we offer it way too much power. We forget that we can overcome,
we can transcend, we can throw away that evil at a Cross,
and walk off instead with a clarity of who we are,
and remember that we can’t allow our conscience to rot.
We can use that disdain trapped in a spirit that has become corrupt,
and instead build strength that can last through whips and chains.

I get so sensitive at times, I can’t find the right ways to normally talk,
I find myself caught, my heart it feels painfully tender,
I am not good at being normal, conversation about earth bound topics is hard for me.
I am good at being fully alive, but the moment I come into groups of human beings,
my wings are clipped and I crash.
I can only be who they assume I am,
They trap me with their thoughts, their forceful opinions, their cruel judgments,
I can’t be free in a world that is trapped,
therefore I throw away my wings and take on a cross instead,
and pretend to be like everybody else.

The curse of perception, is that one wishes to never interfere,
to never make one’s presence felt,
because we all know… We know that love is a myth,
No wonder we cling so desperately to what we can find,
The people we fall head over heels for, the people for whom we would plunge into the deepest oceans for,
they are every bit as indifferent, as broken, as complex, as disturbed, as affected, as ordinary, as irritating, as annoying,
and as disenchanted as we all are,
but we seek still… for the human heart hopes,
it hopes for a cure,
for peace that can transcend the banalities,
the realities and the trivialities.

We all know that someone out there is tired of us,
we know that someone out there hates us, it could be a brief moment in a crowd, or in a shop,
but that alone is enough, that brief scratch… can destroy the most powerful self constrcuted image,
immediately if it is constructed by hope and fantasy, latently if it is constructed by pride and arrogance.
Most people ignore us, and treat us like we are not important enough…,
That is the language of this world, to treat us in a way that does not disturb their illusions.
So we find ways to cope, to enjoy our own rowdiness, and express our own unique gifts,
but constantly we find ourselves troubled by the vastness of the world,
by the sheer level of talent which has become a powerless and mindless enterprise,
we know talent but can’t fathom character,
we see dreams reached, but the price is seldom revealed,
we see Happiness and accomplishment, but never the question , ‘ Is this all there is to life…?’
we know skill, but we can’t perceive egoism.
Like trees that endure smoke,
our hearts bear vicissitudes that we enter into by nature of who we wish to be.