Legions of Love

Who are you? I asked myself.
I am not a who; I am a what.
I am a misstatement written into the divine dissertation.
I am an object of scorn and derision,
Fit only for the role of hobble-de-hoi to the mass of
Humans who were turned out perfectly to plan.

Yes, a something to be burlesqued and poked at
And never meant to be part of the whole.
Not from outside, no. But within, which shows without,
A storm; a tempest; a volcano caused by and yet causing
A breach from those whom I long to be a part of.

Yet, I think there is hope, sometimes…but when I try
To make myself like them I fail, for I do not know
Their ways. Truth to tell, I take joy in my differentness,
For I would not change myself one jot nor one tittle.
I walk a different path, a different route,
But not one on which I am the only traveler.

Yea, we are legion, said the evil one.
But, yea, we are also legion, we are the outcasts,
The despised ones. For we are gifted of God
And charged by Him to bring a message…
The message of Love to all who persecute us.

by Frank F.

Note:

Frank and I worked in the same office for several years. He has sent me this poem, and given me permission to post it.

He invites comment.

Frank has not named the poem, but I have chosen the name "Legions of Love"