Menu
Share
Share this story
Close X
 
Switch to Desktop Site

Hope

A poem

People spill into the open market,

elbows collide, hands fly, sellers

About these ads

relentlessly shriek at buyers

when a soft bump against my leg

veers me off the market current

and a child's small plea, "Excuse me,"

thunders exoneration for us all.

Child eyes move into me

safely, sweetly jarring a memory

About these ads

that to honor another is enough

to break the inertia of indifference.


Follow Stories Like This
Get the Monitor stories you care about delivered to your inbox.