Passing by,
standing out
loud in the soft silence
of hospital corridors.

The stranger-
in the far
corner-
reading the
Bible.

Yearning, for
company.
Drawn, by His
presence,
you sit.

Speaking of day
to day cares,
medicines, taken-
to a stranger;
who doesn’t
know, label,
and see you,
as walking dead.

You worry,
for your son;
what will he
do, when you’re
gone?

Here, beside me,
Briefly, reading
your pain.

“Is it cancer?”

“A cyst, we thought,
but no, not a cyst.”

There’s your
ride, into
the light,
smiling,
at peace,
a moment,
with a
stranger.