The 16 bus saunters through the West Bank,
its wheels picking up the remnants of last night’s snowfall.
As it approaches the bridge time becomes suspended
and the riders are allowed a reprieve from their days –
the only calm in their commute.
Black hoodies and gray winter hats push up against the window.
There isn’t a face on the bus that hasn’t forced its gaze
through the soiled snow-spattered glass to look down at the river –
still and foreign to the commotion above.
Disappointment, weariness and anger are pushed at the river, longing for solace in return.
Through a large break in the ice it looks back,
dark and resolute,
and refuses these offerings.
As the bus comes to the end of the bridge, the riders turn back to face front,
accepting their burdens and drifting back into their day.
Emily, your writing is awesome, I'm so glad you've made this so it can be read!
ReplyDeleteFollow my blogs too, we can be blog buddies!
1) What I'm up to musically: http://tashalockemusic.blogspot.com/
2) Various SoCal adventures: http://adventuresinthesouthland.blogspot.com/
3) Documenting my travels: http://mtashatravels.blogspot.com/