The Pile of Ugly

The Pile of Ugly
by dan ankers

Once there was a pile of ugly, loaded up so high
That it marred all of existence, and sore was to the eye
And so the people packed their bags up, and drove off with their kids
In search of some anointed haven, where maybe they could live
And where there was no pile of ugliness to grapple with

As they drove a thousand miles, and their kids played hand-held games
The parents thought to wonder, from whence that refuse came
But drove it from their minds, for thinking was displeasure
And played the mind-held game, disparaging forever
Never truly living, always feeling clever

However there was one man, who watched as they drove away
He'd never felt like them at all, so why should he follow their migration call?
He knew very intimately, just what that pile was made of
He'd seen them load it up, with the ugliness that was
Their truest contribution, to human evolution

The man was sure they'd do the same thing, anywhere they went
Just looking the other way, whenever they saw fit
For that view was always nicer, and that way carried pleasures
Ignoring the alternative, of dealing with their ledgers

When they'd gone, the man, he sadly sifted through that pile,  dejected by this world
For among its heap he saw the hopes and dreams, of the parents of those little boys and girls
Who now drove off in a new direction, to heed the siren's call of willful incomprehension
With the steel-toe of his boots he kicked aside, yet another thought they'd hoped to bury and hide

Unanimously it seemed away they'd thrown, the belief in other's suffering save their own
And outside of their great town, their stood alone, throngs of hungry people with no homes
Who had to view that pile of ugly too, whose minds seethed with a rage they never knew
And whose bellies were seized by hunger, for which they didn't care

All this searching drove him to despair, as he wept at the foot of that pile and wailed into the air
He wept for those people he'd come to hate, who shunted him aside for keeping his faith
An carrying it around with him, his own pile of trash, instead of disregarding it, he left it fastened fast
His ugliness, his faith, his hopes and dreams, and all the things that he believed it meant
To be human in the first place, and he carried it wherever he went
And he resolutely believed that they should too, and so resolutely now, he knew what he would do

The man found an abandoned semi truck, unloaded it and readied it for his haul
He combed that massive mountain for it all, their hopes and dreams
He crammed it totally full, so there was nothing else he could squeeze
He honked the air-horn once, as he drove away
He knew if they couldn't accept him, he would accept them anyway

He would find the people who'd abandoned this town
And return to them the treasures that he'd found
And teach them not to look the other way
And treat their own emotions like decay
Or to forget that others here deserved life too
On this massive ugly world with me and you

As he drove away, he left open the gate
To all the folks outside, who hadn't ate
Or slept on a bed in quite a while, if ever at all
Telling them that there was plenty, just remember to keep empathy
And remember not to close this gate ever again

...And on that pile of ugly there did sprout
amidst the fertilizer of emotion
a single tiny flower of devotion
whose speck would soon erupt into an ocean.