You don’t know it, he says, but you’re an object to be revered.
He says, I’m going to change the world.
He has seen you at your most vulnerable,
too cold to think, tired,
head stuffed with the mucus of a thousand tears.
He is frustrated too. He believes
that what lives behind the headaches, the runny nose,
is more precious than agate, the nurturer
of ambitions, the only stone
that clears the foggy path between you and realization.
He insists that you do the talking. Say
to those who stand in your way, I am not
here for one side or the other; I advocate peace,
something as simple as the basic human right
to live under a roof, to not be shot
in the back of the skull, to not
be raped. It’s on these people
that Haddi-man is declaring war.
You will cover him with your words
as he waddles into the jungle. He is large with hope.
Dry your eyes. He trusts
that when you go out, you transfigure the world
into something full of meaning
that ultimately makes sense.
This work by V. Manivannan is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.