He sits across from me today,
I saw his story last week as well,
only from a safer distance.
There is sadness in his eyes,
an emptiness in his stare.
Postured like a turtle
seeking safe retreat,
he offers a slight reassuring smile,
surely more for my benefit
than his pleasure.
He is half my age,
but youth is long gone.
The lines upon his face tell stories
most prefer not to hear.
I wish I knew what etched them there.
Are the scars that line his arms
a mere prologue to the deeper scars
that lie within?
Do the tattoos hide,
or scream
I am here,
or I am not?
I cannot know.
I sit quietly,
our reflections mirrored
as towns, and time, and life
pass us by.
He stares into nowhere,
or somewhere.
I close my eyes,
I caress his soul
I send him
peace,
I send him
joy,
I send him
love.
~sf