What Is It That's Left? Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

What is it that's left,
Yet kept concealed.
With a hope to leave hidden?
Fearing what's felt may be revealed?
What is it that's left,
Kept concealed.
Besides...
One's honesty to show.
Or trust exposed to be noticed.
Or a devotion to respect with dignity.
And where is that identity,
One says is expressed as a must.
But when around others,
That voice is hushed.

What is it that's left,
Not yet to observe for others to see?
Faith to believe?
An unselfish giving to others in need.
A willingness to assist and lift,
Those in trenches...
Experiencing overwhelming hopelessness.
What is it?
What is it that's left,
That people can not see?
That is there to appear obviously?
Besides greed and the need to feed,
More hypocrisy and self-righteous.

What is it that is left and kept,
Unexposed.
But yet...
Promoted to sell and sold to believe?
In protests and marches.
With cameras to film,
A quickly organized showing of unity.

'We shall overcome.'

The doing of WHAT?

~Sssshhh.
Don't be such a spoiled sport.
Get in the game to play or ignore it.~