| She has taken to telling people her name is Rose. |
[Oct. 27th, 2008|09:47 pm] |
(perceptions. )
A volunteer volunteers,
but this one makes those who are already working go slower,
ill at ease in her shifty, wavering presence.
I learned to merely ignore,
and today I learned that as a child and adolescent,
she was physically, sexually, and emotionally abused to such a state,
that, well, look at her (or avoid eye-contact. )
On the bus ride home I ran into another, who once volunteered;
a high-up executive she was once, so rumor had it.
One day she crashed, she cracked and she crumbled.
She had been struggling with mental illness her entire life,
and so it came out that her the.rapist had sexually abused her,
impregnated her...and for all those years she had covered and buried,
stored and ignored her final undoing.
What do I have to say to this person?
I acknowledged her greeting (we were a 1/2 bus length from one another)
and upon my exit, I asked her to keep us all in her prayers.
She said she would,
and reminded me that my boss' birthday is coming up shortly.
People can be as strange as clouds, and as elusive;
we dare not look up, and when we do we are overwhelmed.
Clouds are vast, expansive and expanding,
but sometimes,
even more often than not,
they just look like spilled milk.
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