The warmth of a spring sun
Beckons people to the Square—
Some sit or lie on the grass,
Others choose the benches, watching—
Studying the tide of life come rolling in
And passing through, all with some purpose,
Somewhere they seem compelled to be.
Sometimes they pause as if for a moment
Divested of their direction, enjoying
The sense of teeming life reawakened,
Stirred by the sheer spectacle of it.
A pigeon struts his way toward a possible mate,
Puffing his feathers and cooing his love,
But ignored as she continues her search for food.
So it goes in our world too
Always the chase, always the aching need.
I can almost hear the bird’s lament—
“Why must I be alone?”
My eyes wander to a man
Sitting on a bench not far away.
He stares ahead at nothing, aware of nothing
Save the thoughts that seem to paralyze him,
Lost to the beauty and light and life
That offers itself to him if only he’d see.
His sadness seems to enfold him in its dark embrace.
Some hurts the world just cannot help,
Some wounds beyond her power to heal.