I have never entered a creative storm quite like the one I've been experiencing for the past couple weeks. I hope it keeps me captive for a while longer! I wrote "A Familiar Face" on the subway Sunday evening.
A Familiar Face
by Lauren Taub Cohen
I passed him each day
at different times
sitting absolutely still
on the same bench
wearing the same clothes -
plaid shirt and bulky blue jeans.
His sagging rucksack
leaning against him
like a loyal but weary
friend.
I tried not to stare
but his stoicism
was striking.
Vibrancy glowed
in those amber eyes
which shone in stark
contrast to the grime
coating his clasped hands.
I wondered how
he had ended up here.
Yesterday, I walked
through the park again
expecting to see him
but he was gone.
I stood before his
vacant bench
and whispered
a prayer
I say to myself
each morning,
“May you be safe.
May you be loved.
May you live with ease
and the blessings
of good health.”
Aren't those needs,
those aches
universal to us all
and impervious
to the trudge of time?
