Anonymity Requited
by Odin Roark

Seen by many,
told by few.

The stark face of a bus rider.
A hungry, rag-tag boy’s face pressed up against a pizzeria window.
A marathon runner unable to lift himself from the ground at the finish.
On the hospital grounds, a sorrowful mother watches her cancer-suffering son try on various hats,
each bringing a “Do you like it?” from the boy.

Perhaps it’s the way a leaf floats from its seasonal shedding.
or the way the bedded gold, red and orange welcomes it.

The cat peering from its windowsill longing for sidewalk and alley freedom.
The goldfish wondering why it has no freedom.
The fall sky with its grayness of winter preparation,
allowing a crisp breeze to carry its first raindrop,
not quite ready to be a snowflake yet.

Finally, after his daily city walk…

The young poet enters the park and sits down next to a homeless woman feeding imaginary pigeons.

His notebook and pencil poised for that first word written, he renders his eyes closed,
the tears longing to be relieved.