Diseased And Despised by Scott Utley
My name is Prophet, ..., but they call me, "Hey! You!" I am a penniless drifter,
shod poorly, diseased and despised. I sing for a seat near the hall down the path
to the shed used by swine. I'm gleeful with joy for any place to dine. Crafty by
circumstance, I am blessed with a spark of divine mind. I trade hope for shelter. I
barter truth for a comfortable lie. I feel privileged, indeed, honored to share my
most cherished possession with whatever lurking beast or saint there may come
a-knocking on the door of my rice-paper heart. The possession I speak of is my
inner light, my love, the most powerful force in the universe. More often than not,
I possess neither food nor shelter. But light has never let me down. My huckster
mind can convince me otherwise, nevertheless, shyster thoughts be damned. Belief
does not make an invidious fantasy real. Those evenings I am cold, angry, lonely,
rejected, and filled with remorse for coming to this place in the first place, are
the same evenings I forget to be grateful. On these occasions, nights crawl
painfully slow to that trickster called dawn. What I lack in essentials I make up
in wisdom. Vagabond wisdom is priceless, so I give it away for free. I must. Like
my father before me, I stand hunched-back, just as his father before him. My
deformed stoop is the result of an incalculable weight I carry upon my shoulders.
My mother was born in Hell's Kitchen. My father was orphaned at the age of two in
the dank Mississippi poverty that knows no equal. Tragic obstacles for both of
them, to be sure, but triumphantly overcome with passion, ideals, and love. But
even born deformed and senseless is easier to bear than this weight, this soul
numbing weight. I fear the worst should I stumble or fall. I fear for the innocents
striding between land and the cobalt blue seas. When I fear it's because I've
abandoned gratitude. Sometimes my unbridled dejection paralyzes my connection to
God. It is easiest then to dismiss divine light as a dreamer's hallucinations run
amok. And I do. Yes, I do. I dismiss like a diva.
04/05/2009 Author's Note: I liked this title but it has absolutely nothing to do with the meat of the piece. I am just very concerned about our nation and the dunces who rule and the dopes who let them.
Posted on 04/05/2009 Copyright © 2024 Scott Utley
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