Things

I don't want the things that are bought
I want the things that are made:
the things that experience unearths, polishes and refines.
I want the plateau of joy that comes only after extreme pain,
the satisfaction after feeling that you could never overcome, yet you did.
The sentiment where you hold my hand in the dark.
Your hot breath on my neck as we sleep.
I want to see the faces of those who overcame.
Who overcame this harshness and were not broken by it.
Who were treated with such brutality and contempt,
yet who somehow grew in depth and humility from it all.
I want to stand by those people who give more than they take.
Who know more than they choose to say.
Who are more than you could ever pretend to be,
Who refuse to be invisible, although you discredit them.