Potatoe potahto

Recently I was accused
Of some sort of racial slur
In a story I wrote
About gorillas in
Much Like Us.

When I looked again
Re-reading it through someone else’s eyes
Or as close as I could get in my own mind’s eye
I still could not see what they meant
Though I tried as hard as I might.

So I sat
And I thought
About all the pictures people see
About how we all see a different world
Through a myriad of different eyes,
How everything is up to us to define
Decipher, discover, decide
And we are all as infallible as each other.

From the slightest misunderstanding
To religious discourse, to racial hatred and outright war
The whole problem is us humans, desperate to not be alone
Fighting for some real meaning, some vital substance
In this life, on this rock, floating alone through space,
The vacuum that surrounds us.

There is no straight answer,
No all-encompassing truth that we can all happily
Accept, nothing that is so clear cut and true
That we all see it the same way, so we go on
Fighting and arguing, judging and describing
Pidgeon-holing. Reinforcing our own preset world view
Until all that exists in the wonder of reality
Fits within our own ten-second segment of bite-size life,
Allowing us to relax back into comfortable modes of behaviour,
The ruts of common existence and habitual blindness.

When will we all wake up to the pure beauty of clear sight?

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