Names

Names.

That’s all they are.

Names.

Printed in black on white paper.

Names.

Cold, bloodless, joyless.

As clinical as statistics.

I see names

Every hour of every day.

More often than not,

Those names are associated

With complaints.

It was not so long ago

That I could put myself

In the place

Of the people behind those names.

I could step into their shoes,

Imagine their lives

And livelihoods.

Their homes, families, cars.

For three minutes at a time

I could see a name

And try to figure out,

If not understand,

Their hardships.

Now, the names are just names.

Now, they are not so much

Flesh, blood and emotion

As they are facts.

Now, if you asked me

To step into their shoes,

I am not entirely sure

That I could.

You see, they are so much more

Than names

And demands

To me.

They have organs, senses,

Ideas and beliefs.

I want to know more.

Besides their names.