What will your legacy be?
Just a small drabble....
I was listening to the song "War Sweater" By: Wakey! Wakey! (I will include the lyrics and a link to the song at the end of the piece) and it inspired me. I encourage you to listen to it while reading. Maybe it will inspire you to write something as well. It is an excellent song that is full of passion and conviction.
I hope that some day I will be able to look back on my life and say that I took risks to help someone, that I gave of myself and that I am a better person because of it. In a world of material lust, I'd like to think that I gave more than I took.
Love, love and more love.
Bella ♥
She hears the dull thud of something against her apartment wall. She glances over and frowns.
When the subsequent crying starts, she calmly reaches over and grabs the remote of her coffee table, watching the volume go up and up and up. She picks up her magazine from the sofa and flips through the shiny pages. She hears their front door swing open and then slam shut just as quickly. She hears a stinging slap to someones skin followed by a shallow yell for help. She huffs and gets up to move into her bedroom. She pulls her warm comforter back and slides in between the covers, throwing a pillow over her head.
"It's not my business....." she chants over and over in her head as she drops immediately into a deep and restful sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
He starts to the other side of the street when he see the man sitting on the sidewalk just in front of him. He looks out into the street, disappointed that the flow of traffic is so heavy that he can not easily cross. He continues on down the sidewalk, head down and shoulders hunched. He hears the gentle call from the man that sits there, dirty and old. He tries not to notice that the man's hands are shaking around the cardboard sign he holds tightly against his chest. He pulls his expensive wool coat tighter around his neck and watches his breath puff out in a cloud against the cold air. He wills himself not to hear the sidewalk mans gentle insistence for help, for a cup of coffee, for a warm meal. Without so much as a wave of his hand, he continues past the man.
"It's not my problem....." he chants over and over in his head until he is safely tucked behind his desk in his grand office that overlooks the city.
~~~~~~~~~~~
She's pushing her grocery cart through the crowded store when the frazzled mom bumps into her. The mom turns and apologizes profusely, clearly overwhelmed by the 4 small children she has piled in her own grocery cart. She nods to the mom and keeps going down the aisle, not stopping to even speak to her. When she looks up again, she watches as one of the small children reaches into his mothers purse that is seated in the front of the cart. The child pulls his mothers wallet from the purse and drops it soundless to the ground, while his mother keeps going down the aisle never noticing. She watches as a man bends down, looks at the wallet then picks it up. He puts it in his own pocket and turns to head out of the store.
"It's not my issue....." she chants over and over in her head until she is safe at home, her wallet still safely tucked in her own purse.
~~~~~~~~~~~
He was out of breath by the time he made it down the driveway, stopping quite often to lean against the old wooden cane he carried. He looked out at the street again, seeing his metal garbage can rolling further down the street. The wind whipped around him, tossing his hair across his wrinkled forehead. His feet ached, his back felt like it would give out at any moment. He was feeling every one of his 89 years today. One of the neighborhoods stray cats rubbed against his ankle and he smiled.
"You hungry, kitty? I'll see what I can scrounge up for ya once I get back to the house. Sound good?"
The cat meowed happily and followed him down the driveway, bouncing along ahead of him at times.
As he made his way out into the street to retrieve his garbage can, he lost his footing and fell down hard against the asphalt. He had somehow managed to swing his hands out to catch his fall and he felt the sting from his palms where he had scraped them. Gingerly moving to sit up, he realized that his cane had flown from his hands and now sat out of his reach in the middle of the street. Unsure of what to do, he laid back against the asphalt, defeated.
He turned his head when he heard the familiar wheels on the pavement, looking up into the young boys face that was wide with a grin.
"Whatcha doing out here, old man?" he chuckled, hopping off his skateboard.
"Getting the garbage can?" the old man countered with a grin of his own.
The boy reached a hand out, grabbing the old mans wrist, "And why didn't you just call me? You went and got yourself all busted up for nothing."
The old man hung his head as the boy pulled him to his feet, "I...well, I didn't want to bother anyone. I figured I could....well, I thought I could make it."
"And look what that gotcha, your hands are all busted up. Hey, my mom wanted to know if we could bring you dinner tonight. I was thinking we could watch alittle TV? Play some cards?" the boy led the old man up the driveway, leaving his skateboard on the lawn. He looked up at the older man, waiting for an answer.
"Oh, I'm sure you'd rather be with your friends instead of hanging around an old man. I'll be fine." The old man stated.
"Great so we'll be by around 6-ish then?" The boy reached to open the old mans front door and usher him into his home, smiling.
"Fine, fine. Whatever tickles your fancy." the boy man grumped, silently pleased that he would not need to spend the night alone.
"Ok see ya." the boy called over his shoulder as he left the house.
The old man watched from the front window as the boy flipped his skateboard into his palm then made his way to the street, grabbing the errant garbage can on his way. The boy walked it around the fence, dropping it gently in it place. The boy waved once more before he headed to his own home across the street.
"It wasn't his issue....he didn't have to help." the old man marveled to himself.
New York is dangerous, littered with thieves
We've no morals here, we just do as we please....
But I don't wanna go home where they all stare at me
cause I'm tattoed, and fired up, and drunk, and obscene...
You wear your religion like a War Sweater.
You ask for the truth, but you know you could do so much better,
and you sat on your fences, you've screamed no retreat...
So now what will your legacy be?
(We...)
Battle lines drawn if you wonder which side speaks the truth
then look closely to which speaks from pride
I love you. I swear it. I would never lie...
But I fear for our lives and I fear your closed eyes...
You wear your religion like a War Sweater.
You ask for the truth, but you know you could do so much better,
and you sat on your fences, you've screamed no retreat...
So now what will your legacy be?
So what will your legacy be?
So what will your legacy be?
(We...)
I'm in the mood where I come all untied,
I'm in the mood to say things that'll change people's minds...
I love you. I swear it. I would never lie...
But I fear for our lives and I fear your closed eyes...
You wear your religion like a War Sweater.
You ask for the truth, but you know you could do so much better,
and you sat on your fences, you've screamed no retreat...
So now what will your legacy be?
So what will your legacy be?
So what will your legacy be?
I was listening to the song "War Sweater" By: Wakey! Wakey! (I will include the lyrics and a link to the song at the end of the piece) and it inspired me. I encourage you to listen to it while reading. Maybe it will inspire you to write something as well. It is an excellent song that is full of passion and conviction.
I hope that some day I will be able to look back on my life and say that I took risks to help someone, that I gave of myself and that I am a better person because of it. In a world of material lust, I'd like to think that I gave more than I took.
Love, love and more love.
Bella ♥
She hears the dull thud of something against her apartment wall. She glances over and frowns.
When the subsequent crying starts, she calmly reaches over and grabs the remote of her coffee table, watching the volume go up and up and up. She picks up her magazine from the sofa and flips through the shiny pages. She hears their front door swing open and then slam shut just as quickly. She hears a stinging slap to someones skin followed by a shallow yell for help. She huffs and gets up to move into her bedroom. She pulls her warm comforter back and slides in between the covers, throwing a pillow over her head.
"It's not my business....." she chants over and over in her head as she drops immediately into a deep and restful sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
He starts to the other side of the street when he see the man sitting on the sidewalk just in front of him. He looks out into the street, disappointed that the flow of traffic is so heavy that he can not easily cross. He continues on down the sidewalk, head down and shoulders hunched. He hears the gentle call from the man that sits there, dirty and old. He tries not to notice that the man's hands are shaking around the cardboard sign he holds tightly against his chest. He pulls his expensive wool coat tighter around his neck and watches his breath puff out in a cloud against the cold air. He wills himself not to hear the sidewalk mans gentle insistence for help, for a cup of coffee, for a warm meal. Without so much as a wave of his hand, he continues past the man.
"It's not my problem....." he chants over and over in his head until he is safely tucked behind his desk in his grand office that overlooks the city.
~~~~~~~~~~~
She's pushing her grocery cart through the crowded store when the frazzled mom bumps into her. The mom turns and apologizes profusely, clearly overwhelmed by the 4 small children she has piled in her own grocery cart. She nods to the mom and keeps going down the aisle, not stopping to even speak to her. When she looks up again, she watches as one of the small children reaches into his mothers purse that is seated in the front of the cart. The child pulls his mothers wallet from the purse and drops it soundless to the ground, while his mother keeps going down the aisle never noticing. She watches as a man bends down, looks at the wallet then picks it up. He puts it in his own pocket and turns to head out of the store.
"It's not my issue....." she chants over and over in her head until she is safe at home, her wallet still safely tucked in her own purse.
~~~~~~~~~~~
He was out of breath by the time he made it down the driveway, stopping quite often to lean against the old wooden cane he carried. He looked out at the street again, seeing his metal garbage can rolling further down the street. The wind whipped around him, tossing his hair across his wrinkled forehead. His feet ached, his back felt like it would give out at any moment. He was feeling every one of his 89 years today. One of the neighborhoods stray cats rubbed against his ankle and he smiled.
"You hungry, kitty? I'll see what I can scrounge up for ya once I get back to the house. Sound good?"
The cat meowed happily and followed him down the driveway, bouncing along ahead of him at times.
As he made his way out into the street to retrieve his garbage can, he lost his footing and fell down hard against the asphalt. He had somehow managed to swing his hands out to catch his fall and he felt the sting from his palms where he had scraped them. Gingerly moving to sit up, he realized that his cane had flown from his hands and now sat out of his reach in the middle of the street. Unsure of what to do, he laid back against the asphalt, defeated.
He turned his head when he heard the familiar wheels on the pavement, looking up into the young boys face that was wide with a grin.
"Whatcha doing out here, old man?" he chuckled, hopping off his skateboard.
"Getting the garbage can?" the old man countered with a grin of his own.
The boy reached a hand out, grabbing the old mans wrist, "And why didn't you just call me? You went and got yourself all busted up for nothing."
The old man hung his head as the boy pulled him to his feet, "I...well, I didn't want to bother anyone. I figured I could....well, I thought I could make it."
"And look what that gotcha, your hands are all busted up. Hey, my mom wanted to know if we could bring you dinner tonight. I was thinking we could watch alittle TV? Play some cards?" the boy led the old man up the driveway, leaving his skateboard on the lawn. He looked up at the older man, waiting for an answer.
"Oh, I'm sure you'd rather be with your friends instead of hanging around an old man. I'll be fine." The old man stated.
"Great so we'll be by around 6-ish then?" The boy reached to open the old mans front door and usher him into his home, smiling.
"Fine, fine. Whatever tickles your fancy." the boy man grumped, silently pleased that he would not need to spend the night alone.
"Ok see ya." the boy called over his shoulder as he left the house.
The old man watched from the front window as the boy flipped his skateboard into his palm then made his way to the street, grabbing the errant garbage can on his way. The boy walked it around the fence, dropping it gently in it place. The boy waved once more before he headed to his own home across the street.
"It wasn't his issue....he didn't have to help." the old man marveled to himself.
Click to viewNew York is dangerous, littered with thieves
We've no morals here, we just do as we please....
But I don't wanna go home where they all stare at me
cause I'm tattoed, and fired up, and drunk, and obscene...
You wear your religion like a War Sweater.
You ask for the truth, but you know you could do so much better,
and you sat on your fences, you've screamed no retreat...
So now what will your legacy be?
(We...)
Battle lines drawn if you wonder which side speaks the truth
then look closely to which speaks from pride
I love you. I swear it. I would never lie...
But I fear for our lives and I fear your closed eyes...
You wear your religion like a War Sweater.
You ask for the truth, but you know you could do so much better,
and you sat on your fences, you've screamed no retreat...
So now what will your legacy be?
So what will your legacy be?
So what will your legacy be?
(We...)
I'm in the mood where I come all untied,
I'm in the mood to say things that'll change people's minds...
I love you. I swear it. I would never lie...
But I fear for our lives and I fear your closed eyes...
You wear your religion like a War Sweater.
You ask for the truth, but you know you could do so much better,
and you sat on your fences, you've screamed no retreat...
So now what will your legacy be?
So what will your legacy be?
So what will your legacy be?