He was very adamant, he said it didn’t matter and, most importantly, he said he didn’t care. He was rude, obnoxious and he said and did hurtful things all the time. He said the ones he loved knew his real self and he doesn’t care what the world thinks of him.
But then I read it in the Book, a line I had underlined long ago: “Our mistakes hurt and affect not just us, but others around us too.” These words were written by a man named Ezra, a name that means help. His mission was to help the ones who had eyes but couldn’t see, had ears but couldn’t hear the pleas of the ones they were hurting with their actions and words.
I wish He had met Ezra. I wish they had gone out for a cup of coffee or a shot of tequila. I wish he had realised his actions were hurting others around him. Wounds heal, scars remain and he was leaving people around him messily scarred.
I know He thinks it doesn’t matter… But then I know a man, who started out just like him. Now at 78 years of age, he stays alone in his big house, surrounded by walls that have some tragic stories to share…