The Refugee

Watercolor by Julie Codd, CSJP.

by Bryan Johns, CSJP-A

I had a dream the other evening.

In my dream, you were only seen by someone if they loved you; if you loved someone, you could see them.

In my dream, I had a brother who saw me but just barely because we had become so different and believed in different things. I still saw him clearly, but he made me angry when he couldn’t see me clearly. I decided to run away from him, so I could see him less clearly too. I ran over hills, valleys, plains, and he tried to follow me though he could barely see me. I looked behind and I could see him less and less. He still tried to follow but I ran faster. Soon he could not see me, and I never looked back to see him.

In my dream, I came to a large city and spent days moving around in it to find out what I could see. Finally, I saw a group of people I liked; I liked what they did, what they had, what they said. I went to live in their neighborhood, work in their offices, shop in their stores. But they never saw me. The only time they saw me was when they needed to be seen liking me, then when they were done, they saw me no more. Soon I started to see them less and less and I started to wander the city again.

In my dream, I came to an area filled with people like me, people looking to be seen and they could see me because we were the same. They did what they had to do, they had to make do with what they had, they were always kind and hopeful in their ways. At first it felt good to be seen by them, but I still wanted to be seen by those who did not see me. So slowly I started to see these people like me less and less. And I, in turn, was not seen by them very much either.

In my dream, I wondered: How could I ever be seen? My brother now could not see me, the city people did not see me, my own kind saw me less and less. And I saw less and less in turn.

In my dream, I could still see the sunrise and sunset, the moon and stars, the clouds, the trees, the plants, the mountains, all forms of life – all of creation. Seeing these things meant I loved these things. But unlike people, they couldn’t see me. Or could they? How could they?

Someone must have made them in love. Someone must have made them see. So they could see me in that love and love me in turn. But why could I see them?

Someone must have made me in love. Someone must have made me see. So that I could see them in that love, and I love them in turn.

And I love the one who made the sunrise and sunset, the moon and stars, the clouds, the trees, the plants, the mountains, all forms of life because I could see that someone in them.

And I love the one who made me because I could see that someone in me.

So, shouldn’t I see my brother more clearly because someone also made him in love?

So, shouldn’t I see my own kind more clearly because someone also made them in love?

So, shouldn’t I see everyone more clearly, even those who refuse to see me, because someone also made them in love?

In my dream, I still wander. Yet now I know everyone sees me. And now I spend my days seeing them. Are you seen? Do you see?

This article appeared in the Autumn 2023 issue of Living Peace.