A story from (& for),
Love and Peace For All,
Masonville Mall, London, Canada
There was a couple in the store when he entered,
And I'm not sure when exactly they left,
But there I was
Alone with Kyle.
Dear Michele (who manages the store)
Looked at me intently before leaving for the day
And asked in hushed tones
If I'd be ok alone (other co-angel\ worker) was on break.
One to address people by name,
I already got his, though
I wasn't sure, as it came out quite muffled
Under his bandana
Which covered the entirety of his face
Aside from his eyes,
And too, he wore a hat.
His eyes were exposed,
and that was all that was
Walked with a limp
-or trying to be-.
The store had emptied,
And I continued to serve him,
With curiosity in equal measure.
Again, I asked his name,
And finally got it right.
Upon entering, he had said that he'd
"Never been in a store like this before,"
And I welcomed him with the same sincerity,
than any Other.
Sceptical of the store, myself,
perhaps the very idea of such a store,
He proclaimed that he was looking for something
I led him to obsidian
-raw form of hardened lava, black, beautiful, edgy,
for protection, & safety,
For absorbing negativity on his behalf.
He wasn't interested.
Made a (verbal) pass at me, (tried)
Which I gave no heed to,
carrying on with my own curiosity.
I noticed the heart shaped bruise
On the bridge of his nose
When his mask has slid down a touch,
And smiled to myself, thinking
"Oh Jesus,!" Who always presents to me Walking
In heart shape.
Walking over close to the incense wall,
He knelt down
In front of a display of
Various shaped crystals,
Skulls, butterflies, cats, Hamsa hand and such-
I did the same,
knelt down beside him.
Again he asked
"What's the most powerful thing in the store?"
He gazed at me for a few moments too long,
-which I held-
And I could practically see his thoughts:
"But you're supposed to be scared of me,
think the worst of me...
Why are you being nice to me...?"
He said he'd owned
Some Thing very powerful
In the past,
Which was taken from him,
Something that was firey,
I asked him if killed anyone.
"Yes," he said.
I did not falter, remained unphased, not flinching,
Calm as a cucumber.
If there was any more conversing after that,
I cannot not recall, and even to my surprise
He left shortly thereafter,
Wishing me a good day.
Some minutes later,
As far as possible from the store,
Walking along the wall across from the store,
I saw Kyle limp by, peering in.
as I carried on playing the tongue drum,
With its sweet sweet melody.
I recognised Kyle,
As I have many students/ others
In/ out of classrooms.
I recognised his call for attention,
And the only way he knows how to get it
Is to be rough, tough, a misfit.
I've been all That,
and that is how I (can) know him,
Recognising an old version of myself
Though he might not articulate it the same way,
what Kyle is after,
A smile, a conversation,
From someone "like me,"
-ultimately no different from him,
to notice Him,
to acknowledge his existence,
In a way different than he's used to.