Congregation
A million faces in a station.
Lips sealed in silent scream.
Breathe slowly now.
Scratch at the itch on your hand.
Take note, before you jump.
Feel the wisps of breath leave your throat.
Enjoy them.
Love them.
I can hear you.
Watch the breath cloud as it escapes,
soft patters in the air, so frail, so fragile.
So powerful.
You’re alive.
You’re here.
I can see you.
Listen to the words spoken.
A couple mumbles their love into lips.
A soft kiss in greeting.
Spanish, German, English, Russian.
Each voice tells a story.
Note it.
Inspire one.
I can feel you.
Note the people around you.
Their clothing, a present from a mother.
Their phone, a call away from a love.
So are you.
It sits there in your pocket.
You’re not alone.
Someone will hear.
And know.
What you want to do today.
Sometimes we feel like Atlas.
The weight of the world batters our shoulders.
Be proud of your battle scars.
You survive.
Sometimes we are medusa.
Betrayed and turned away.
Be proud, you are fierce, you are fire.
Burn bright.
Survive.
And maybe I can know you.
So think before you jump
before you swallow that lump.
Feel your heart beat.
In time with the world.
You’re alive.
