Monday, July 31, 2017

At the End of the Pier (Day 194)



Sitting at the end of the pier, 
you and I shared a coke, 
our feet dangling in midair. 

We inhaled the faint mist rising 
from the water, which flowed 
with the tide, left-to-right, below us, 

and imagined boats drifting past, 
carrying people we glimpsed 
on the news, people without 

homes, some running from, some 
running toward. Then, we fell silent, 
as children do, who, like refugees, 

carry little sense of power, helpless 
in the face of pain and despair, 
never realizing that we, hands tied, 

offered more than the entire city behind 
us—hearts in our hands, ready to give 
or to take, as the situation required. 


(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Alcatraz Sunrise, by Tony Webster