Illuminated
Whenever you meet a stranger in winter,
whether you’re shuffling through slush,
or slouched in a plastic seat on the bus,
lift up your gaze from below your cap
to look in his eyes for the tiny candle
that you’ve heard poets speak of,
some glimmer of humor or honeyed delight
that re-ignites when we greet each other,
spreading its light into concentric circles,
ever widening. Imagine a rush hour bus
aglow inside from the tiny candles in all of us,
each one relit by someone who dared to look up
and smile at another instead of just looking away –
seeing at last not another brown coat in a seat,
but a human, illuminated, a sliver of divinity.
by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
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2 Comments
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Rosemerry! What a great name!
And Wonderfull Poem! Thank you.
And thank-wonderful-you, Polly! -
Very nice poem today! Thanks for sharing.
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