Monday, July 07, 2008

My God Rides the Metro (Revised)

My God Rides the Metro

Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?
--Henry David Thoreau

My God rides the Metro.
He watches tunnels blur by,
like ages prodded en windowed route,
sudden stops of thought.

He smiles at soft-fingered girls
kneeling on orange benches,
eyes and noses sucking steam
from this miraculous glass.

My God rides the Metro.
He holds his breath as it climbs,
skips in its tracks into sunlight,
plods over currented waters,
those unknowing rowers below.

God smells hard work and damp papers,
feels ridges on yellow hard hats,
watches for auras most of us miss
while we long for the stop at our station.

My God rides the Metro.
But no one ever looks up.
He sighs with tired riders,
crowded, perspiring eyes.

God sees himself in each and still,
hopes we might look for a seat,
nod in his general direction,
assure him he’s still alive.

Katherine Mercurio Gotthardt
Draft 5
July 7, 2008
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