Appearances Poem by Jim Coleman

Appearances

Whenever a stranger addresses me,
my eyes will investigate their face;
my ears will listen to how they speak.
What they are telling me takes second place,
as though the face and voice are where I find their worth
and not the substance of that person's words.
.
In those moments when I'm self-aware
I deplore what I am doing in my name.
A person's worth does not lie in their
face. I know this so who am I to blame?
Is there a primitive hiding in me
undermining my integrity?
.
"The colour of his skin gives him away.
That man does not belong to my kith
and kin. His opinions carry little weight."
That pretty woman I'm conversing with,
is less worthy than that other one and yet
beauty gets my attention, not intellect.
.
If I dig down through the millennia
that made me, I find instincts laid
with my ancestral bones, like grave goods that were
once my tribe's and still have the power to lead
me through my present life down primeval tracks,
if I let them. I turn and scurry back.

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