A passing

20 10 2010

Crevassed dark chocolate skin sang stories of many laughs and tears. With broom in hand, he worked diligently under the supervision of fluorescent lights. A slight smile filled our requests and his steady hands met our needs. Was his ever met? While steering the yellow bus, did he wish to re-direct himself elsewhere? Those who serve seem to sleep in our darkness. If we do no knock out our own cobwebs, how will we ever clearly see our own impact? Our fingerprints on glass remind us we belong and have rested here before. Our marks and dust of being serve us if we recognize and claim them. However discarded such reminders leave us without responsibility. Others should not be wiping down our prints of existence.

Window wipes and dust cloths should belong to those who need to see. The segregation of task from responsibility is unethical—un-live-able.

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