A Hand of Real Flesh
by Regis Boff
I do not trust the goodness of a man who needs me to know of it. It is the silent hand that dispenses mercy that will save us.
We are not good or even better people by supporting a some candidate. They are our excuses for not quietly lending ourselves. The parties we support are only vanities. They are shining objects we wave in front of one another to impress. Our politics helps shield us from offering another person what he needs, a friend he knows. I hand out of his darkness. A hand of real flesh.
Within any finite space, the first crop humans grow is envy.
The last is charity.