The Almost Human

Enfolded in her sphere of being,

The almost human watched mankind,

And wondered at the way they lived

With gallant heart and fuzzy mind.

“Here’s one,” she said, “and another alike,

One evil and one good,

And all and all and all around

Are all misunderstood.”

How silly and how wonderful,

That endearing human riddle!

Maternally sighing day and night,

The almost human’s vigil.

A spark she saw in each lost soul,

A voice and warmth and light,

And seeing them blindly run and fall,

Longed to restore their sight.

She watched them strut and fret and love,

And wished to join the dance,

But, objects of her affection dear

O’er ran her in their trance.  

They could not understand her voice,

So labeled her naive.

Why could they not see freedom’s path,

Like her mind’s pensive sieve?

Then wounds through empathy’s blade she felt,

Not sympathy’s gracious shield,

Startling herself with reality’s sting,

She cried to know she’d yield.

“World can have no place for you,”

They said, “and now begone.

For World’s too loud and harsh and cruel

To hear your gentle song.”

So once more to her sphere she flew

As tender as a dove,

And once again with angel’s view

She watched from skies of love.

A gossamer wish still to connect,

To live and to belong,

But feared her fragile soul be wrecked,

Would not rejoin the throng.

Still knowing she must find her place

In man’s great, terrible maze--

Else become a shadow, to the end,

Almost human, empty days.