Good people are blessings, but they are so aloof.
It’s what I sense in everyday life,
at elevator door, in the hallway,
and crowded train, at traffic signal,
on lonely gratutude lists, face to face conversations,
or in the presence of preachers and wordy liars.
If I were a perfect person, I would be doing
something to expose all the goodness of good people-
I would be unmuting their silence, peeling their masks,
and putting some words on things they do.
I am not, though I pause whenever I am awed by
the number of good people I come across.
I sing a prayer for them, wishing
their lonegivity in a world that does not have
correct attention span anymore.
Maybe that’s why I am so often away,
filling emptiness with words,
noting wishes my way.
Forgive my disappearance.