Old woman I have never met laughs too loudly
in a coffeeshop and doesn't care;
dies in another year, I never said hello.
Young girl gets raped,
stands outside the clinic post-op, weeps.
Picket protest sign in hand, I shout a slogan,
spit into her old, old eyes.
What was her name, again?
God damn it, she's the child I'm campaigning for!
Small boy chases a bright ball, I run and shout.
Oncoming traffic cuts the air,
ball explodes under a black tire.
Sidewalk holds a living boy
staring open at a frightened man,
bright wonder in his eyes.
He is me.
Stepping carefully across cracked pavement,
tears blurring up vision; feel like every Zen master
who has suddenly attained enlightenment.
Old man I've never been
laughs too loudly in a coffeeshop
and doesn't care.
So much life in this poem.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Josh. :)
ReplyDeleteThis reminds me of all those commercials you see where someone does a good deed, and another person sees it and does a good deed of their own, and it just keeps going and going.
ReplyDeleteDon't be offended that I compared you to a commercial, because I love those commercials. :)
But I like it. Kind of a circle of life idea except with a better worldview.
"He is me"
What better way to say that history repeats itself, and so many life lessons can be learned by just watching life occur around you, and then really embracing your role in the big picture.