Are You Ok?

  I was visiting  some old friends, actually they are my husbands friends. One of them asked me suddenly ‘Are you Ok? You seem upset.’ …and I replied saying as always ‘I am Ok. I am fine’, while smiling back at her. Of course that’s a lie because I am not Ok, but would they want to hear the truth. No, Never…they only end turning their head away and ignoring they asked as quickly as the question is made. 

 

I often wonder if people asking these questions mean them at all, if they would react at all one day and stop me and really look me in the eyes and ask the question for real and care enough to sit back ready to listen,  hold your hand or give you a warm hug saying they care if I am Ok or not. That they really mean to listen to your inner cry. But no, I believe most prefer to be objective and detach themselves from others worries.  I guess it’s understandable, yet why does it feel so painful when no one understands you in return. 

In frustration I wrote the following poem; 

 

MISUNDERSTOOD JUDGMENT by A.A.E.M

 

Once again I come to face the judgment

of those who are fearing my own grace.

Through fear they end accusing me,

Of deeds and habits that are unfair to me.

I wish to cry I wish to scream,

But what can I do when it’s already decided

and I am doomed as a cold sceptic.

Yes, that’s what many believe IS me.

Oh pity oh joy – when will the two of you get along with me?

Oh fear oh acceptance – when will you set me free?

Oh memories of past – isn’t it enough that you’ve took from me?

Of course I may say words, preach and shout,

But is there really anyone able to hear my cry?

I know I end crying of all the unfairness.

I know I end distant to my fellow man.

But what am I to do when there is judgment

no matter what I say or do?

Life goes on and yet another friend is lost,

In the webs of the black widow

that are set up against my own trust.

That’s the mirror of perfections,

That’s the reflection of humanities fear and rejections.

But I am Ok, I am fine, because I am used to it.

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