My eyes may not see the same things that you see,
but I see my own special world.
Come, let me show you the beauty I find
in a flower with its upturned face, smiling at me;
or my kitten who purrs when I touch and love him.
I too can love.
I too can feel you when I touch your soul.
I can feel your smile or your rejection
when you frown and tell me I am not like you.
But I am special. I am me.
Will you not show me some value that I have
so I may find my own self,
my own special strand in nature’s web?
I cannot build nations or seek fame,
but those things are not mine to do.
I love my work; I am happy doing those things I was given to do.
If I have but one talent and use it well,
is that not the best I can do?
Do not take these special things from me,
expecting me to do things I cannot.
I will not. I cannot.
I am a special person,
and you who love me
are also loving part of your own soul.
For I too am part of your life
as you are part of mine.
What life do I have
without the lives of people who bring me hope and love?
And what part of life do you lack,
you who will not let me love you in my own best way?
I cannot speak the words I feel inside;
I can only cry, a very real hurt, a very real pain.
Let my tears be as strong a call
as those who shout with dignity and clarity.
I, too, have something to say.
Listen with patience even to those things I cannot say,
for these are the real things
that make me smile and sing in my soul.
Look at me.
I, TOO, AM A VERY SPECIAL PERSON.

© Peter William Rowe

Return to the POETRY page