There is a song in Avenue Q called “Everyone’s a Little Bit Racist”, and while I may be somewhat ashamed to admit it, I think there is real truth in these words. Social stereotypes abound, and we find ourselves, particularly in vulnerable moments, jumping to stereotypical conclusions that could very well warrant the title of “racist”. I was walking home from the subway, late, after seeing a Broadway show. My head was filled with the star-power performances I had seen, and lyrics rang through my inner ear. There are a few blocks near this particular subway stop that tend to be a bit sketchy, with various characters forever lurking about and even more so after the witching hour of midnight. One such character was walking in my direction. He was muttering or singing to himself and swaggering just a bit. Instinctively, I started to look at my phone, to avert eye contact and avoid any type of interaction. In that moment, I assumed he was probably drunk or high or homeless or all of the above. In the dark it was tough to make out his race - all I knew for sure was that he was different from me and in a sketchy part of town late at night. I preferred to stick with my post curtain call high and not welcome in this stranger’s energy. Quickening my pace, I scrolled through all my previously opened messages, with the intention of appearing very “busy” and engaged.
Much to my chagrin, this man saunters by and says “God bless ya, Beautiful” with a wink and a “tsk!” As my eyes jumped up in delightful surprise, he met me face to face with a glorious smile and a gentlemanly nod of his head. He kept walking, I kept walking – two ships that pass in the night, or so the old adage goes…
I walked home grinning, charmed by a man I had preconceived as a beggar, drug dealer, drunkard or worse. My heart swelled a little more open as I accepted his graceful blessing and wondered what about me had been beautiful to him in that moment. It softened me, just a touch. And in a city full of concrete and speed, I slowed down, lifted my head and looked around me, wondering whom I might bless before I got home.
As I neared my home sweet home, I found myself contemplating the concept of beauty. I’ve always been a bit skeptical of these outward expressions of beauty – the transient, ephemeral thing that is always in the eye of the so-called beholder. Maybe because my Mom always said “beauty is more than skin deep”, and when she chastised me with “don’t be ugly”, I knew she meant nothing about lipstick, hair combs or hemlines. It is inner beauty that we must seek to cultivate every hour, every day of our lives. Perhaps that will keep our heads out of our phones or our hearts open to the people we meet on the street, regardless of the address or the exterior package in which they arrive.
I once wrote a poem, while sitting beside a pond in Central Park. The flotsam in the pond, coupled with its mirrored images of clouds and sky got me thinking about what was underneath. I wonder about the amazing ability of human beings to find and proclaim “beauty” in things that they do not truly see…
Sunday Shades
A Pond
ripples Still
inside me
Deeply catching tossed coin wishes
Floating fallen leaves
Forgotten
Along the surface shimmering
for your Sunday musing.
Wide
Filled with earth’s rough refuse
in the organs concealed within
My smooth glassy skin
Frescoed with your visions
of sky and salty floral truths
Whispered by your customs,
Rituals
of shore-side sunning
Wading
without diving
You skip
around the perimeter
snapping photos of the mirrored hues.
and then,
You tell me that I’m beautiful.
©2012 DOS
The excerpts of all of the poems presented in this blog are copyright protected, as each and every poem has been copyrighted. For a complete copy of any poem, feel free to email your request to: duvallosteennyc@gmail.com.
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