if I count my way around the room
we are twelve scattered across tables
and couches, close enough to talk
but all engaged by screens and books
silent disciples of different causes
I am facing one who looks troubled
though I cannot see what she sees
only what she shows in her eyes
the brick wall between us keeps me
from asking and her from telling
we have not even made eye contact
so I look around the room at one
who looks angry under his hat,
another pensive, finger tapping lip,
one dozing off, another honing in
all connected to somewhere else
I suppose I could wax critical about
our collective isolation — another time . . .
today I am grateful for an open-armed
room that can hold us all as we are
Peace,
Milton
It’s true isn’t it, even though we are not necessarily connecting with one another because of our draw to tech communication, our faces, our bodies, still tell a story to those with eyes to see. And connection remains one of those possibilities…
I appreciate your heart, and your way with words.
You’re still sharing community, and I believe the troubled and angry are as grateful for your presence as the peaceful and slumbering are.