Circles: Part Seven: Dressed in White

His words radiated in my head,
He could save me,
but not my race?

I think,
Why am I so special for this privileged honor?

I take his hand,
he helps me to my feet,
but,
the others charge,

Are they blinded,
or choose not to see,
the man next to me?

Now Standing alone,
in empty space,
I realize he sees something,
glaring in my direction.

I act dumb,
look around,
befuddled by his acute attention,

I ask,
"what do i owe for this special visit?"
he smiles,
remains silent,
pinching nerves inside my brain.

I already know that I'm special,
I know I'm better then this,
But to forget these men,
that's just not my style.

"You can show me a better life,
away from this place,
asking only for my obedience,
but then again,
I'm not your dog"

"You sir,
Gave up on me,
Like you gave up on all these men,
that's why you created this place,
that's why these seven gates exist"

"My salvation,
is not with you,
its conquering you,
your wasteful ideology,
your talk of redemption,
which slips through your fingers when we pass"

"Maybe that's why I'm here,
Because you don't want to be reminded your wrong,
That these people can be saved,
they're good people,
who don't worship you,
hand or foot."

"What you are doing is inexcusable,
and when we meet again,
i hope you take my hand,
and help,
not shun."

Nodding,
disappointed,
he points to a path in the distance.

Clutching the cloth in my hand,
i throw it toward my men,
Their eyes glow with hope,

I guide our decent,
down the slope,
through the trails,
of exile.

To Part 6 or To Part 8