It’s about time I put the name out there for us. I am the person that represents the souls that others might consider a freak. The ones laying down with just a newspaper in place of a blanket. They who society looks down because they are not properly cared for. The lonesome figure searching for a piece of bread to eat. That child you see searching for water to fill her container after the rain. I see all and feel their pain.
I use my words to light up a corner where darkness reigns. “Who cares if we live or die?” Migrating around trying to find a shelter from the world around them. Shivering from the cold stares that is shown to them. Parents carrying children towards that promised place with hope that they too can see another day. Elders pushed in wheelchairs hoping someday to lay in peace in any way.
I write for those forgotten so they know someone says a prayer for all the souls. I once wondered if I would see the light once more. Through the eyes of the child that I had bore. Will he run towards the ever loving figure that cherished his hugs. For him I build a legacy of words. It might not be a favored toy, but it comes from the heart that sent him off with a suitcase that included blankets covered with love.
We are spun from the threads of royal hands covered with happiness. You might not feel it, but it is there for the taking. Even with a mustard seed size of faith and hope will pull you up the rope towards the mountain view of life.