"Ecce Homo, behold the man,"
was what the Tin Man wished to say,
when Dorothy, in ignorance,
had crossed his path that day.
The girl had ridden high atop
the twister's brutal winds
away from home,
from old grey men,
deep in the Heartland's soul,
where petty minds, intolerant,
set cruel and heartless goals.
"Behold the man," he'd say again,
"am I not worth the time?
Am I not owed some happiness?
Is not my soul divine?"
How dare those men from whom you came
say that my mind's not free,
that I can't choose who'll share my soul,
that I can't just be me?"
"And you," he'd say to Dorothy,
"who play your naïve part,
are wrong to think me incomplete
without a human heart."
"I need no wizard in my life
to fix me in some way,
yet back to Kansas I'll lead you
to skies and minds of grey."
"You rode the whirlwind,
fleeing there and now you seek return
to that sad place where those like me
are destined to be burned."
"The storm that swept you here that day
may soon engulf your land,
but if you put your trust in me,
I'll offer you my hand."
"I'll lead you on toward safety
through the thunder and the rain,
until at last, the storm is past
and you are home again."
YOU ARE READING
A Mind's Eye
PoetryA collection of poems grown from myth and mind. Gods, monsters, and mortal men in a variety of poetic forms. Narratives and allegories as deeply rooted in the psyches of modern humanity, as in the civilizations that planted those seeds. Songs from d...
