He was “rough around the edges,” so to speak; some mannerisms not to be desired.
And yet, at times a softness seemed to sneak into his eyes, which to his heart were weird.
He was raised without a dad and taught by peers. His life directed by harsh circumstance;
vocabulary filled with filth and sneers; to be a normal boy he had no chance.
As we conversed I felt his wounded heart was looking for acceptance, not more hurt.
I did my utmost to become a part of soul repair, so he could sweep the dirt.
And while we talked a subtle spirit spawned. He made a conscious effort to refrain
from jarring words whose meaning to him dawned, offensive, should he take His name in vain.
When mentioning his son there was a brightening. His countenance showed love and hope and pride
One could see his vengefulness was lightening. A change was evident way down inside.
Many like him I have met before, and searched for goodness as in depth we spoke.
In everyone I’d carefully explore their interests, trying hard not to provoke.
In every man or woman there is hope if we encourage them to bring it out.
Sometimes they fight, not knowing how to cope with love, and are besieged with doubt.
We should not walk away and never try to find that goodness hidden under pride.
That extra word before we say goodbye may strike a chord and in their heart abide.
In each event our spirit strives to show them love, respect, and kindness; it’s our test.
Then, when we leave them, in their heart they’ll know we gave, we took the best, and left the rest.
Category 2 (1ST Place)
