To the Editor:

Were all basically the same,

Arent we?

Cut from the same cloth,

Cookies from some Divine cookie-cutter,

Made in His Image

To walk upright.

A strand of 33 vertebrae

Supporting &bsp;

1 head, housing

1 brain,

2 arms,

2 legs,

Gender appendages,

Stomachs, livers, eyes & ears,

Hair, in various dos . . .

Or donts.

So where does our

Hatred lie?

Instead of flowing, invisible, undetectable in our veins

Like a woeful genome

Waiting to violently explode

Against child, brother, friend, or neighbor,

Suppose hatred manifested itself

Outwardly,

For all the world to see,

Like a warning signal?

What if

Hate

Greed

Vice

Sloth

Grew on our skins,

Covering us with

Boils, blisters, tumors –

Tocsins

To all,

So wed know who to avoid:

The kindly looking old lady who deprives her dogs of food.

The pediatrician who abuses his oath.

The husband who drinks to a self-righteous rage and beats his wife blind

In the dark confines of their home, children cowering in the corners.

Hate on the skin would be a road-sign,

A yellow caution-light,

A flashing barricade,

Warning those who approach:

Avoid Eye-Contact

Pass Me By

Do Not Stop

Do Not Talk To Me

Do Not Trust Me

For, like the Serpent,

I shall Divine your Fall.

Debra Halborn