Providing Signs

Pardon me if I use a sign
meant to find all my peeps
the ones aligned to my life
by the words I’ll confess
marked by phrases out of place
so it seems when compared
to the chatter most parley
one to another, babble’s frame.

Some will question what I mean
confusion reigning when they read
the meaning lost to their ears
the turn of phrases too foreign
because their lives are lived elsewhere
no harm is meant, this is their fate
while I exist, exemption’s child
looking for other ones.

Others have little care
for this one struggling forth
whatever said matters not
I’m too alien for that lot
they may know what I mean
yet I’m put out of their minds
not wanting to know anymore
mutterings lost in the storm.

Instead I speak to my kind
to let them know they’re not alone
providing signs they’ll discern
invitation to comfort’s arms
though the world may complain
I’ll hold them close as a friend
signs submitted to the world
finding those who need them most.

© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170603.

I engage in a lot of “shadow activism”, letting those of similar stripes know that they’re not alone, and that I support their continued existence.   This is done in the full view of a social media world, one that reacts little to my mutterings.  Why?  The poem “Providing Signs” examines this question.