Poem: Seeing Through Dust

SpaceDust 2019  via Flickr cc

Seeing Through Dust

By Lydia Sellers

Our value is determined by what’s inside our hearts.
We’re not physical attributes, political attitudes, or potential aptitudes.
Categories, categories, stereotypes.
Who are we?
Are we not human?
Or are we to decease as projects of the era?
When will compassion no longer be a slogan?
Will we see a day of faults forgiven?
Or will we dwell on past offenses while claiming we’re still “living?”
Remind me please, what it is to be human.
Not a well-oiled engine of a train, but a brain full of thoughts.
Not a sarcastic “one-liner” machine, but a heart with wants.
It isn’t that I want to go back in time to a better day.
I know we’ve always been a mess.
I just want to confess, I’ve been living in the cloud of dust from a factory.
And now . . . I can finally see.
And now that I’m free, I hope you might join me.

Photo Credit: SpaceDust 2019 via Flickr cc

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