You Poor Devil

Lu, you poor devil

Passing by a boy of seven crying piteously about his scraped arm. Bike nearby. Tear stained cheeks. You gently lean over and take his pain.

Now your arm throbs.

Luc, you poor devil

Walking in a park where an old man sits shrouded in solitude as chocking as the black he wears. You brush past his shoulders and take his pain.

            Now your heart clutches.

Luci, you poor devil

You see a young couple argue through the window. This is the last fight to break their brittle shared life. Hurtful words are thrown around with no consideration of the consequence. Two doors slam. You breathe deeply the air, sucking all the hostility away.

            Now your lungs burn.

Lucin, you poor devil

There’s a woman who’s daughter decorates the refrigerator with butterflies. The woman lays dying in a sterile bed as cancer consumes her liver. You bow your head and take her pain.

            Now your liver smolders.

Lucife, you poor devil

You watch a businessman, a good man fret and worry about his employees that he can no longer pay, the numbers that are too low, and the costs that are so high. You blink and take his pain.

            Now your mind whirls out of control.

Lucifer, you vile creature made of pain and violence. You leer with the evil grin. Yet your exposed teeth 

           hold back all the pain you’ve eaten. You walk with a slow, steady limp. Combing the world day 

           and night for pain, hardship, and suffering. It calls to you like a beacon.

           But for what purpose?