On the surface

Maybe I am disheveled, unkempt

On the surface

Maybe I exude beauty, perfect face, perfect hair

On the surface

Maybe I appear haughty or cold

On the surface

Maybe I appear frightened or shy

On the surface

Maybe I appear approachable, welcoming

On the surface

Maybe I seem unfriendly and angry

On the surface

I may appear to be many things

But it’s all on the surface

You do not know me

You know not my joys or trials

My challenges, my pleasures

You do not know me

So, why?

Why do you judge me?

You think you know me

You do not

You know my surface

But not my tender underbelly

Or tender heart

That I protect

With angry scowls

To keep you away

It’s only surface living

That you see

You do not know me

Or the depth of my being

Or the depth of any human being

If all you see,

All you know,

Is on the surface

13 thoughts on “On the Surface”

  2. Sometimes I imagine a world where we are all blind to this “surface” information, where race, gender, religion, nationality… don’t figure into the human interactions. Perhaps it won’t be until after our species is extinct. Perhaps it will be the A.I. version of us that will finally be able to see beyond and see into the deeper self? (Can A.I. have a “deeper self”?) The self that matters. Beautiful poem. Thank you.

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    Reply

    1. Thanks so much, Celinia. It would be a far nicer and kinder world if we could see past the surface. sometimes the unkindness and cruelty of humankind gets me down. And then I read something inspiring and all is relatively well again. Aw, life. Sigh.

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