Know Thyself

Born in a common house

To common people,

He was given a common name.

He carried it like

Lumps of rough rock

In his pockets, and

Never had a moment’s

Pleasant forgetfulness

In which to just be

Like a flower, worm, or tree:

A creature with no epithet,

Equal under the sun,

With no reason to be shunned.

He wore his face like a

Silent apology,

Never knowing that

The stones in his coat

Were rubies, lapis, and jade

By God’s very own hand made.

Reviews

[Robert Haigh]

To come from common or humble stock is no shame, but some people do feel sensitive about their humble beginnings. I am unashamedly working-class, like my parents and grandparents before me, so I had no rocks to carry about really. We all have worth, and something to offer the world. A thought-provoking write!

[Laz K.]

Most people, statistically speaking, are working class. The pyramid gets tighter as we go up. Inherently, there's no shame in doing a certain type of work, but classism is an existing thing. So, there's worth and value and prestige as per society, and inherent, inner worth, value and identity. I tried to say something aout this dicothomy in these few lines. Thank you for reading and commenting!

[mattavelli]

Hello, Laz! :)
I read this a few times last night, then again this morning, and just now. I’ve enjoyed it more with each read. We are absurd creatures, and you’ve done a great job portraying that here. Thanks for sharing.

[Laz K.]

Absurd, yes...for not knowing our true value and letting external powers tell us what we are and what we're worth.
Thank you for reading and commenting.

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

I agree with Jacob's assessment on both this poem and your work. There is always a sense of enlightenment I take away when reading the art you produce and gift us with. It derives from an uncommon heart and philosophical mind. Wonderful work Laz.

[Laz K.]

Thank you so much. The feeling and appreciation are mutual.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"he wore his face like a/ silent apology"
wish I had written that...

to be common is probably better than being a rock...to feel common and yet be so special...a humble kind of being.
a really good poem this is.
reading you inspires me, Laz
j.

[Laz K.]

Thank you very much, j.