Journal Entry

Rarely do I share my journal entries… but today is another day and well, why not?

I wrote this this morning, while on my first cup of coffee.

I was feeling mostly moved by the man who picked recyclables out of trash cans and was saddened by the fact that we turn away from these sights. If we see a homeless man hungry on the street, or a less fortunate man, we turn away. We pretend they are not there. We have become numb… myself included. So, in honor of that man, the least I can do is share what I wrote about him today and even then it is not enough…

Here is to that man without a name.

 

people are painting a picture and I am not part of it.

The old clock tower rings in the distance

The old ladies walk with their fine dress and big hats

some carry shopping bags and

others converse about how to cook purple potatoes

Mothers walk with their strollers

and children are crying for milk

The sun is shining, the skies are blue, everything is so polished

The man in a business suit hold his dry cleaning of off one shoulder

and checks to see the time on his gold wrist watch

All of them paint a perfect picture

and I am no where in there

nor is the man with a black trash bag collecting recyclables off of every trash can

To everyone else he is invisible

To me, he is the only living being, true, and real in this picture.

 

It might be that I am too damn sensitive. I could cry over an injured bird or a butterfly with a broken wing. But, I was made this way. So, if I could shine any light to it, I will. If I can do anything, I will. My voice is my instrument. So the least I can do is write about it.

 

Cheers, salute, salud, y sante

 

your very own,

 

bluebird

 

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