My name is Prophet but they call me, ‘Hey, you!’ I am a penniless drifter shod poorly. I’m diseased & despised. I sing for a seat near the hall down the path to the shed used by swine. I’m gleeful with joy for any place to dine. Crafty by circumstance, I am blessed with a spark of divine mind. I trade hope for shelter. I barter truth for a comfortable lie. I feel privileged, indeed, honored to share my most cherished possession with whatever lurking beast or saint there may come a knocking on the door of my rice paper heart.
The possession I speak of is my inner light, my love; the most powerful force in the universe. More often than not I possess neither food nor shelter but light never lets me down. My huckster mind tries to convince me otherwise, but to the joker within my skull, I say, “Shyster thoughts be damned!” Belief does not make an invidious fantasy real.
Those evenings I am cold, angry, lonely, rejected & filled with remorse for coming to this place in the first place, are the very same evenings I forget to be grateful. On these occasions, nights crawl painfully slow to that trickster I call dawn. What I lack in essentials I make up in wisdom. Vagabond wisdom is priceless so I give it away for free. I must.
Like my father before me, I stand hunchbacked, just as his father before him. My deformed stoop is the result of incalculable weight I carry upon my shoulders. My mother was born & raised in New York City’s west side shanty town; Hell’s Kitchen. My father was orphaned at the age of two under crushing dank Mississippi Delta poverty which knows no equal. Omens for both of them, yet they overcame their fate of birth with a passionate belief in the power of love. They dug deep to survive. I have had to dig even deeper but I’ve learned to love getting my face dirty.
I wonder if being born deformed and senseless is easier to bear than this weight, this soul-numbing weight? I fear the worst should I stumble or fall. I fear for the innocents striding between land & the cobalt blue seas. When I fear it is because I’ve abandoned gratitude. Sometimes my unbridled dejection paralyzes my connection to God. It is easiest then to dismiss divine light as a dreamer’s hallucinations run amok. And I do. Yes, I do. I dismiss like a diva.