True Beauty

Back to the jungle once again A long journey has come to an end Over the clouds, through the hills and down the river I have came Everything is a little different But somewhat the same Here lie a people that used to be slaves It was on this river they made their escape Here they built houses of wood and stone And created a place they could call their own They make their living off the land By the work of many strong hands They have built this vibrant community That my eyes have been privileged to see By a glance all I may see is poverty By a closer look, I now see true beauty And not merely the endless scenery or the luscious foliage and greenery But in the people I have come to serve And in turn who I have let serve me In ways it feels, I truly don’t deserve So listen closely, let me tell you a story Mothers and daughters down by the water Beating laundry with paddles, the sun grows hotter I approach with my boots covered in junk I place them in the water with a soft plunk I attempt to remove the thick red clay she takes them from me and washes away She scrubs until there is no sign of any speck of dirt or grime Thank you very much is all I can say I now ponder would I do the same? If the situation were reversed Do I really believe the first will be last And the last will be first? Can I honestly say that I would choose to take the grimy, muddy, dirty shoes of a foreigner I hardly even know? Would I humble and bring myself low? In all honesty I really don’t know But therein lies the true beauty, I now see Amidst what appears by a glance, to be poverty So don’t merely judge by what you see, but believe that beyond the poverty, there may be A true beauty, yet to be seen