Blurred Lines 

The black man opened the brass door wide

For the petite white lady to step inside.

Barely a nod, her head held high

Her heels clicked as she walked by.

Meanwhile, across the street

A bearded Muslim bumped into a Hindu priest 

Shooting contemptuous glares and silent accusations 

They moved on in opposite directions.

A few blocks away

The wife of a tycoon stepped off her limousine

Her pearls glistened in the sunshine 

As she strutted to where the rich dine.

At the same time 

The receptionist girl 

Gazed at the pearls

As she jumped off the tram.

They walked side by side 

Each lost in her own world of wist and pride 

Until the girl slipped into the bakery

Open for the ordinary.

Just outside 

The little girl in tattered clothes pressed her nose on the window sighing

Eyeing doughnuts and cake, her stomach grumbling.

That night calamity struck.

The hurricane hissed ‘n snarled

Wreaking havoc all over.

Forgetting their belongings 

People ran for cover.

Days later 

Seven survivors 

Huddled together

Under the shelter-

The black man, the white lady,

The muslim and the Hindu 

The tycoon’s wife, the receptionist

And the beggar girl.

They ate together

Prayed together 

Stayed together

Gladly aware that they were uninjured

Unaware that the lines have now blurred.

The contempt was gone 

The hatred was history 

Replaced by truer feelings 

Of hope and humanity.



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