It’s a queue of people, lined against dirty brick walls.
Silence so loud, not even the ants dare to move,
Everyone lost in their thoughts, not even feet nervously shuffle.
It could be rain splattering on their foreheads or sand sticking to their backs,
It doesn’t matter, though.
They are still on the queue.
Placards on their chests, they no longer mind being labeled.
Painted and belittled to become objects and numbers,
Such disrespect is brushed off like an unwanted fly,
For no one speaks the same language or even knows where they are headed.
Strangers, all they are.
..The woman at the head of the line simply sighs,
Yesterday she was kneeling at the feet of her master; cleaning and clearing after everyone.
..The dirty man wrapped in scarves tries not to cough so loud,
He wonders about life ahead, ’will anyone notice when am gone?’
..The young girl won’t raise her eyes to meet those of the other strangers,
Her shame paralyzing her into one spot, for she is one of the ‘night walkers’.
..While, at the end of the queue stands a beautiful woman who won’t stop reciting the rosary,
All she ever wanted was to be loved yet she doesn’t seem to be worthy of it; deception her shadow.
No one speaks of their darkness’s; the dirty brick wall their solace.
The queue won’t move; everyone stuck to the same spot.
Darkness falls and light returns.
With the beginning of the day, comes an awakening.
“You are beautiful. Exquisite in your creation.
Unique to all mankind that ever was, ever will be.
Your strength manifests the reality that God exists and lives in you.
Some days may be dark and trying but that doesn’t alter the fact written in stone that you are one of a kind, a living miracle
And even in the most minute ways, you bless those around you just by breathing in and out.
Just by being you..
Pick up your baggage and explore your personal world for the gem of happiness is embedded into each..
Only then will the baggage seem not so heavy..finally it will not be the focus of your life
For You are the true wonder of life..no one should steal that truth from you.
You are beautiful…”
The feet do not move.
The dirty brick wall still supporting forlorn heads, no one attempts to move.
The silence now a heavy cloud on the queue,
They close their eyes and pretend not to have heard..
The curse of unhappiness wins yet, again.