wrong! :)

The Monster in Your Closet

I used to hate
learning I was wrong.
It meant I wasn’t perfect,
which sucked
(I thought).

Since reading
The Other America,
I’ve been journeying toward
a different view

The Other America explained that
many middle- and upper-class Americans
can’t conceive
of the vastness of suffering
borne of American poverty
because, quite simply,
poverty and its
horrifying
consequences
are invisible
to them

(they know
no poor people,
and certainly not
many)

That made me wonder:

What’s
invisible
to me?

Since I started
asking the question,
I’ve come to love learning
I was wrong.

(I almost always am,
as it happens!)

‘Cause,
as sung
in a Disney musical,
that means I
can finally
change

and maybe,
just maybe,
do better
(, wiser,
kinder)
tomorrow
because of what
I learned
to see
today

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