A young woman sits alone upon a train, a small child cradled on her lap,
dressed like any other neat but weary, working-class mother.
Next stop along the line, just as the train begins to move
a big man slides into the berth and takes the seat that faces hers
She pulls her child close, and shifts to let him pass,
then turns her face real slow, and stares toward the dusty window
watching as the smoky city fades beyond the distant skyline,
traded for dusky greens and blues mixing into ever darker hues.
He sits his big body down, and his attitude and preconceptions
sit right down there with him, as the light in the car grows more dim.
He smirks, and folds his arms while he thinks about the thoughts
he knows she's thinking as she stares almost unblinking.
For he's certain it's because she just can't look — at him—
while she tightens up her grip as the sleeping child begins to slip.
In silence, as they ride on along the rails, he broods, with eyes half closed
watching her as they jostle and sway, resenting her stereotypical way.
Then as the light grows dim outside and she stops watching her hopes
go speeding by at sixty miles an hour, her eyes fall on his arm, and a flower.
He waits for her to turn away, surprised she doesn't, and pretends to sleep
with tattooed arms held crossed where he knows the impact isn't lost.
But he can't take it any longer, the need to challenge boils within
and he opens his eyes wide, but still she looks, and on they ride.
"So, what you looking at, huh, Lady" he says with his most menacing grunt
"You bothered by these tattoos on my arm? Think I'm a thug who'll do you harm?"
Slowly she lifts her eyes and smiles, no sweeter smiles he's ever seen,
which catches him completely by surprise, and she looks deep into his eyes.
"I'm sorry if I made you feel uneasy. I was just admiring the beauty of the art
and thinking how lucky you must be to carry it with you for all to see."
Now, the wind was taken from his sails by this gentle comment that she made,
and he doesn't know how to respond; his preconceptions had all been wrong!
But before he has much time to think, the train shakes with a nasty jolt
and as the child slips from her arms, he dives to save it from any harm,
The shocked expression surprises him, for it's on his face, not hers.
She merely smiles, and nods; says 'Thank you', sweetly, while he feels odd.
Then she lifts a gentle hand, and strokes the child's still sleeping face
and says 'you can hold her for a while', still wearing that unnerving smile.
He settles back in his bumpy seat, the fragile child in his muscled arms
and for the first time in all his years, he's out of control, on the brink of fear!
For there's more power here than he's ever known,
in the face of this small child, and the sweetness of it's mother's smile.
When at last, her destination's reached, he helps her disembark;
through the mist that swirls around he sees her safely to the ground
to where another takes her by the arm with troubled eyes upon the door,
— on the other man he sees as danger, a scruffy looking tattooed stranger.
But the big man gently sets her child into her waiting arms
and in the dawn beside the train, as the air fills with a misty rain
he hears her tell her new companion not to worry, 'this man's all right;
don't judge by looks that hide what every person keeps locked up inside.'
And as the train begins to move on down the track, the big man waits
watching as she turns and walks away, while he rides on toward another day.
But as she turns and gives him one last look, he understands at last.
As one last smile glows on her face, he knows he's felt a touch of grace.
may 2004
©Janet Reid
Awarded by Poetic Constellations ~ March 1, 2005
Awarded by Friendly Musings
Awarded by Flowing Quills ~ May 19, 2004
