They walk among us,
not beneath,
but beyond the margins we draw.

Their voices
are not heard with ears,
but with attention,
with presence,
with willingness.

They speak
in silence,
in movement,
in glances that last a second longer
than most are willing to hold.

The world was not made
with them in mind-
doors too narrow,
words too sharp,
eyes too quick to look away.

And yet,
they live fully.
In their way,
not lesser,
only different.
Only real.

They laugh with a light
we seldom earn,
love without agenda,
trust with an open hand.

We call them children
of the lesser God,
but it is we
who shrink the sky.