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Someone hands me a problem
All wrapped in distress
Packaged in pain
"Can you carry this"

I see the hurt in their eyes
From carrying everything so long
I take the parcel with a smile
"Don't worry at all"

"Can you carry this?"
Another asks
Holding out a bag of sorrow
Laced with depression

"Of course"
I say
Without another thought

They relax
As the pack goes from their back
To mine

I sink lower to the ground

"Can you carry this"
Holding out a burden of self resentment
Tied with a ribbon of anxiety

"Definitely"
A little more won't **** me

The burden is set down on my shoulders
I get a little heavier
My bones aching with the weight
My feet digging cracks in the pavement

I paste a smile on my face

Then you come around
"Can you carry this?"

I took one look in your eyes
"Yes"

Your sack was the heaviest of them all
Grief
Shame
Heartache
Anguish
Torture

My very essence trembled
Under the weight
Of your burden

I was close to the breaking point

But you needed me,
So I carried on

Pretending that I could bear it all
left my phone unlocked
on the taxi’s back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled down  the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
beaming,
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand  
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,
saying:

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
  no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"


to which I replied,

"exactly!
Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"


and with an equally, beaming smile I continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was


Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...
or my knowledge thereof and it’s
proper pronouncement,
nor
his amazement,
to disguise!

  we parted ways
   each believing,
   each receiving,
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
single
supreme taxi dispatcher
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim


^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

FYI,
NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months
https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/sixth-new-york-city-cab-driver-dies-suicide-after-struggling-n883886

true story, poetry is there for the taking
A lie is fake
The truth is real
A lie will mask
What truth reveals

A lie is *****
The truth is clean
The lie lays in shadow
The truth beams

You are the liar
I am the truth
The lie is easy
The truth cuts through

You can't face mine
I don't want yours
One cut too far
But what do I lose?

Not much lost
Nothing gained
No more lies
No more pain

You are fake
I am real
You can't mask
What I reveal
Breathe
In
Out
Again

You’re safe
You’re warm
You’re home again

You’re safe and sound
You’re still around
Your soul is found

Bent low on the ground
Your face became shroud
But the water
Her water
His water
Their water
It loved you
It cleaned you
It sailed you home

The clearest water you’ve ever seen
The perfect temperature so keen
Your thirst is gone

The familiar man in the distance
Clad in Red
You’ve escaped his vengeance
His game is dead
Dead by the wondrous sword

You stare at him
He stares back so glim
Then he bows
Accepting your win
Then he’s gone
Gone forever
Happy endeavors
The Vacancy Saga continues with one final confrontation against the antagonist...
I ran away
To better days

     Don’t stop singing for me

So far away
And almost gone

     Don’t stop dreaming

I ran away
To seek better days

     Keep me in mind and on your heart

I hope you’re sorry
For turning things around

     Don’t stop thinking of me

Maybe someday
I’ll come back around

     Don’t stop fighting through

Maybe I’ll come home to your sweet sound
And I hope you’re listening for sweeter sounds

The price to be paid for seeking residual gain
Is the lost ones never come back the same

I ran away
And I got lost and hurt

     Don’t stop
Sometimes the choices we make hurt, whether the choices are good or bad. But if it hurts too much... Then maybe it's time to reconsider.
 Jul 2018 Debbie Brindley
Afia
Rain
 Jul 2018 Debbie Brindley
Afia
It explains
All childhood gains
The damp soil and people all plain
How easy was it to obtain
Fritter, butter, tea , paratha on a plate
And the gentle smile gone not in vain
Of weak limbs and sight living their tales
A sudden flash and all is blind
A slight whisper and all is behind.
For the love of rain.
Father! Father!
I called upon your name
You heed not as days wane

Father! Father!
How long we've played this game
Where you've ran with no shame?

Father! Father!
Years after my youth waned
Why han't you call my name?
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