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I was motherless, I was fatherless,
Homeless, penniless, hopeless.
Worthless.
And yet there was this man.

He showed me kindness, gave me shelter, shielded me from the jackals of the streets.
He was not clad in shining armour, nor did he sport the uniforms of the rich.
He did not wear a golden cape as childish comics would have us believe.
He was as humble as anyone I had ever known.

And even as I walk to my death, I feel his enlightenment.
For as he filled my belly, he filled my soul.
"We are one of many, but we are still few.
For we are the righteous".

"It wasn't laziness or bad luck or economics or the rich or the poor,
or the criminals or the educated that drove you to the gutter.
It was the unbelievers. Those that are not amongst us.
You are free to leave, to find your own path.
You are free to stay and share our bread.
But, if you feel you are worthy, you can send a message to the world".
He answered my unvoiced doubts, as by then I couldn't voice them.
"Do not worry about the innocent, for they will enter paradise in our name".

And only now when I stand amid the thronging crowds,
with death strapped to my body and the dead man's switch in my hand,
I finally understand who he really is. And embrace his eternal darkness.



Written 15th April 2017
Entry to "my hero" contest

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