They travel in packs
like bunches of grapes
clinging to their vines,

so afraid
that you'll discover
the secret terror
that keeps them cemented there:

that alone
there's nothing to define them,
nothing individually beautiful
about them;

no one paints a picture
of a single grape -
their appeal exists
only in quantity.

Don't worry about the grape people
and don't strive
to become one;

They are blades of grass.
They are grains of sand.
They are interchangeable.

They allow themselves
to be trod upon.

Be a peach.
Be a rose.
Be a seashell.
Be your beautiful self.
And be aware

that the grape people
find comfort in conformity
because it is all they have.

You have more.
You are more.

Don't ever wish for less.

10/29/2005