When riding buses in the evening there’s always ear phones plugged into ears, mouths speaking to phones.
Sometimes I forget to smile when I’m a part of these activities.
I see people partaking too.
I have to remember to smile and sometimes this means to silence all my devices.
I want to be completely present.
I look around and see everyone on their phones.
I realize that I may not get through to them.
But I also see something else, that is… there are others who are always trying to.
That telephone call they’re wrapped up in, or the book read in order to avoid eye contact or the song that’s singing in their ears are not just distractions or walls.
They’re telegraphs to hungry hearts.
Whenever I feel isolated or divided and I want to feed into my ego a little whisper taps at my heart full or empty, aching or still to remind me to remain humble.
That I cannot crowd it with foolish pride.
How it tries.
But the meek will inherit the earth.
On their knees planting seeds that become gardens.
Author: Blazhia Parker
Enjoys writing poetry that cultivates the soul on every level. Performs poetry in various locations: Last Bookstore, Pomona Performing Arts, DBA and small venues in Los Angeles.
Links: [https://m.facebook.com/blazepoet1?ref=bookmark]
