Us

There was that common denominator, in the soul of the homeless man, who sat without entreaty, acknowledging me with eyes of hunger and desperation yet without pleading their cause.
I passed easily, earning a vain victory of pride, gratefully acknowledging that he was he and I was I. Still, something compelled a deeper concession.

Children played, not uncommon, busy and noisy. I placed them in an easy slot, ignored them. One sat alone on the wall, passive, ignoring me. This was, itself, unnatural, and compelled my glance at her in passing. For only the briefest moment, my lazy eyes caught hers ... and there, in deceptive guise of that childish form ... was a piercing glare of knowledge too early won ... a sense beyond baby years, a wisdom of the ages ... filling me instantly with an awe for its power ... intelligence far in advance of my own ... even in a favorable future. She looked away, releasing me like some bug by the wings, mercifully, and I walked on, disbelieving that I'd actually learned something.

TV was no solace. It, too, gave the same message. A PBS program relayed the scene of Hitler's sorry influence. There were you and me, in piles, stiff and askew, shells of our vital past, visions of the former us.

2

Figures at the fence, hollow cheeks and souls, liberated but so long chained in body and mind that no spirit found easy freedom. For how could this have been done by one so seeming same, or allowed by anyone else who claimed to be human?

There were eyes there, too, looking beyond their distance and right through me, right through the TV screen, to that exact place I knew so well ... that common denominator I recognized immediately as my own special province of recognition ... that place that only men among beasts could care about, or must ... our common origin. My humanity had been reached, touched, slapped. I was shocked.

The question, once dismissable, avoidable, could now afford no such easy escape. Once, I could safely externalize this demon. "Doesn't bother me," I'd proclaim with easy flair. In more generous times, I'd think "Too bad for them, really, but I'm too busy with me, now." They were far away, thankfully. Anyone who wasn't me was easily considered distant. "I got mine; you get yours," I'd embrace, with pseudophilosophical license common to the selfish scope of careless youth.

3

Following the credo of self-improvement, I'd become a literal disciple, trying to make a better world, but for just one person. "Do for you, yourself," was my society's popular theme. So, I did. And they did. All of us. All for only US.

But "we" are not merely a plurality of isolated souls. I'd too long mistaken that for competition. With any luck, I might really begin to understand that you're neither rival nor enemy. Your superiority inspires mine; my only aggression should be, rightly, defense, not offense. My only goal: to improve the whole. Gandhi knew this.

I've seen you, too often, as my opposite. In truth, I've established that boundary too near, owing to my provincial naivete', though that is an uneasy admission. Rather than not appear invincible or omniscient or otherwise superior, I've usually claimed I was, for I couldn't bear it from you. I was always better, wasn't I? Please, tell me it's true.

Trouble is, you had these thoughts, too, and our only resolution was elimination of one or the other because of it. We haven't been too smart, have we? This destructive mien has been ours too long, many thousands of years ... aren't you tired, yet? I am. Aren't we past all that, by now? I'd surely hope so.

4

You've been strange too long. Me, too, I know. We were wrong. Strange is not something so similar. We were blind. Enemies can be easily manufactured -- we used to be so good at it. Can we afford to be so good at it anymore? I value mine; you value yours -- can we so easily take each other's? No. Neither you nor I can now work that way. We've matured.

Here's a plan -- I won't hurt you; you won't hurt me ... we'll tolerate. For that's fairness. You're equal to the same considerations as I am. You are as equal to me as I am to you. But we're different, of course. That's good. We'd otherwise die of boredom.

And in your eyes I can see myself, deeper than reflection. The common denominator is obvious ... we are us.