Her story unfolded
As I beholded
A beheading in reverse.
Her shoulders rose as
She shed the curse
Riding beside me on a midtown bus.
Driving by complacent surroundings,
Embraced in somewhat sisterly confoundings,
She entered into a confession
That should purify
Not defile an honest Soul
In the Cold of a worl
I fight to Believe in.
Where I deeply trust
That one voice, one listen, one touch
Can differ the pain,
Melting it to not remain,
But shift and change,
And rearrange the shades
Of Human Understanding.

Her words, her words connected us,
Spun soft and true from
Kind eyes and hard lips,
Beneath mahogany hair,
Cleaving to an Angel's face,
With a grandmother's grace.
Her story bled of worship,
Of a god, of a fog, of belief lost
In the chapped hands of man's greed.
Of a foolish loss,
Begot of one's flesh in need,
Stealing back his lack
That I assume was stolen from him
In a similar way
On some uncommonly, common day.

Yes it's a Pity, but Please?
Only to repeat and beat
Down a sweet soft soul
In a rhythm that literally
Broke some of her bones
And fractured a spirit
That still prays everyday
And works to feed
Four times two or more.
Cuz she's a big sister and
A young mother - twice over.
And here she is, entrusting another
To hold her up in this bus.
Rushing past how many others,
How many naïve and aware mothers,
Are holding their secrets down
With liquor, wine or finer than fine
Baubles and college degrees?

Yes it's a Pity, but Please?
I brush away the crumbs left out
For my confusion,
And unlatch my mind from its "safe" delusions
To recognize just how many of the
abused-abusers are walking and talking amongst us
Cloaked in their blankets of denial,
Seeds from a trial-less trial
Cultivated in a repressed upbringing,
Which really is a bringing down
Of too many childless-childhoods.

Yes it's a Pity, but Please?
These children of all ages Reach out
For the stories of the unshed,
For those who need to be bled.
And I will speak out to those who forget
Or prefer to bury the inappropriate,
I will share my voice in the shadows
And the opened-air day
Demanding RESPECT, not shame,
For we are all the same,
For we are all sisters and brothers
Needing to learn and relearn how
To be unconditional love lovers.

Yes it's a Pity, but Please?
Find a way to give or give back.
Just look into people's eyes
In the street, on the metro,
It's one small spark fueling bonfires.
Cremate that anger renting out your insides,
Convince the old they are not forgotten,
Loan the young your conviction.
Hold out your hand, spare that dime,
But realize, that it is in the time you give
That digs the deepest benediction.

Yes it's a Pity, but Please?
Be her friend, replace the fear,
Now you can't take away the pain,
Or justify the past,
But in seeing her for her,
In one honest glance,
You say that her life matters,
As each of your lives
Do indeed matter to me.
So please,
this time,
Let us all step beyond the Pity.

PLEASE © by Jessica Deltac 2000