Salute to the vulnerable ones—
for remaining tender in this insensitive world,
for your hesitancy in the midst of the world's dead certainty,
for your ability to feel others as if they were you, and to take on each and every of their pains,
for being afraid of the world with its blind and bottomless conviction,
for your need to brush even the invisible dirt off your hands—
salute.
Salute to the vulnerable ones—
for your dread of the absurdity of existence,
for keeping subtly quiet about what you see in others,
for your clumsiness in the ordinary matters and your ability to commune with the extraordinary;
for your transcendental realism and your utter lack of practicality,
for being ill-adjusted to how things are, and being lucid about how they ought to be,
and for all that is endless—unknown—unspoken,
hidden in you.
Salute to the vulnerable ones—
for your creativity and ecstasy,
for your hungry friendships, love,
and for your fear that love might die even before you do.
Salute to the vulnerable ones—
for your talents, never in use,
(lack of appreciation for your greatness will not help in recognising the greatness of those who come next)
salute—because, instead of taking your example, they want you to adjust,
salute—because, instead of healing the world, it is you who get treated,
salute—for all your divine abilities getting ravaged by lower animal force,
salute—for your incredible uniqueness and for the solitariness of your ways.
Salute to the vulnerable ones.
by Kazimierz Dabrowski
Trans. from the Polish by Alexandra Gruszczynska, 5 August 2018
Check out my Idiocy, Ltd. and begin the long, hard reckoning.
