My Name Is Prophet...
... but they call me, Hey You! I am a penniless drifter,
Shod poorly, diseased and despised. I sing for a seat near
the hall down the path to the shed used by swine. I'm
gleeful with joy for any place to dine. Crafty by
circumstance, I am blessed with a spark of divine mind. I
trade hope for shelter. I barter truth for a comfortable
lie. I feel privileged, indeed, honored to share my most
cherished possession with whatever lurking beast or saint
there may come a-knocking on the door of my rice-paper
heart. That possession I speak of is my inner light, my
love, the most powerful force in the universe. More often
than not, I possess neither food nor shelter. But light has
never let me down. My huckster mind can convince me
otherwise, nevertheless, shyster thoughts be damned.
Belief does not make an invidious fantasy real. Those
evenings Iím cold, angry, and lonely, rejected, filled with
remorse for coming to this place in the first place, are
the same evenings I forget to be grateful. On these
occasions, nights crawl painfully slow to that trickster
called dawn. What I lack in essentials I make up in wisdom.
Vagabond wisdom is priceless. So I give it away for free. I
must. Like my father before me, I stand hunched-back, just
as his father before him. My deformed stoop is the result
of an incalculable weight I carry upon my shoulders. My
mother was born in Hellís Kitchen. My father was orphaned
at the age of two in the dank Mississippi poverty that
knows no equal. Tragic obstacles for both of them, to be
sure, but triumphantly overcome with comparative ease; if
you're Merlin, that is. But even born deformed and
senseless is easier to bear than this weight, this soul
numbing weight. I fear the worst should I stumble or fall.
I fear for the innocents striding between land and the
cobalt blue seas. When I fear itís because Iíve abandoned
gratitude. Sometimes my unbridled dejection paralyzes my
connection to God. It is easiest then to dismiss divine
light as a dreamerís hallucinations run amok. And I do.
Yes, I do. I dismiss like a diva.
copyright: Scott Utley
November 6, 2005