The Demon
When men were more primal, they were suspicious of all outside their clan,
they would band together for survival, still today suspecting won't give way and
lives in the heart of each, and every man. It goes by the name of indifference, the
demon that breeds with hate. Now there's been a revival, but all men are still
tribal, a victim of our fate. We all must fight this demon, for it is our very souls we
have at stake.
I never considered myself racist, because I did not hate. but I did not love; I did
not feel, and I didn't even think. Men of another color were so little to me. I did not
hate them, I did not loathe them, I just let them be. They were the object of my
indifference, said that demon deep in me; buried too deep to see, the demon that
would not go free.
It is few men that get to look within, at the indifference they have sown. Fewer
men still get the change to kill, that demon in their soul. At the birth of my
grandson Jordan, who was fathered by a race not my own. Love for that child
shined bright through my heart, so that demon in me I could see. The object of
my indifference my grandson could never be. His love I now hold, it fill the hole in
my soul where a demon once lived in me.
Copyright © Mike Samford | Year Posted 2008
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment