a thought surprises me
what if this world is not what I see at all
suppose what I see is shaped by my childhood
and the world goes on impassively, innocently
with no malice, without even cruelty
so that my neighbor’s world I call a fantasy
sunshine, rainbows, wide paths, and no predators
is just as real as my mirk and mire,
snakes hanging down from trees
tar bubbling quietly, lightly covered by dirt
fog weaving through ferns, and hunters with teeth,
claws, knife edges and points, and even guns
not looking for me or you in particular
just prey, for robbery or torture, either will do
and all around us smiles and happy voices
luring us on, yes, yes, we are so welcome
here, let me spread you a rug over this chaise
would you like honey in your wine?
do you like your bread light or dark?
crusty or soft? let me fluff that pillow
yes, yes, who would not welcome such hospitality?
who would not let his guard and armor down?
it might be worth remembering
the spider’s web is beautiful
the fly trap’s leaf perfumed
and it might be worth remembering
some peoples historically have valued hospitality
welcoming strangers to their own harm or risk
but welcoming them with open hearts and courage
just maybe what I see as fog and overcast
really only harbingers my neighbor’s sunshine
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