Perchance in a Bus Shelter

Perchance in a Bus Shelter

by Marshal Gebbie

Here I sit amidst the ruin of a white winters' day
Convulsive rain and harsh wind outside, contribute tumult.
And in here, in this small shelter, there is a tension in the air.

We two sit apart, uncommunicative, remote and quite detached.
Not for any reason other than the fact that we are strangers,
We have never met, nor are we ever likely to.
She has an elegance and a stylish angularity whilst I am bald, bearded, unfashionable and somewhat overweight.
She is singularly indifferent to my presence, whilst I am uncomfortable with the circumstance that placed us in this small proximity.
We would, in truth, rather both be elsewhere.

I break the ice in throwing her a small smile and complain about the weather,
Her eyes flick across my face and immediately resume their distant focus on the rain, 
She adjusts her seating to face,ever so slightly, askance.
Her choice of course, to assume an air of indifference or superiority...or adopt a measure of defence..or perhaps a combination of a bit all three.  
Regardless... I wipe my backside in exactly the same manner as does she, I  am definitely no less a person for my dumpy demeanour and friendly overture
And I really feel that I don't have to share my space with coldness and impertinance,
Better, I think, to be wet and content with my own company
..So, donning my cap and jacket, I stride out into the deluge to leave the remote and uncommunicative young woman alone and dry with her thoughts.

And then....
Howling rain and shards of wind
Pelt me as I walk
Along the foreshore wild and white
As hovered seagulls squark.
When all at once she's by my side
Walking pace for pace,
Her linen suit a sodden mess
Hair plastered to her face.

"Thought I ought to make it right"
She told me with a smile
I threw my coat upon her back 
And walked another mile.
We called into a coffee shop
And sat down by the fire
And sipped a steaming latte
As she told her story dire,

"The cancer's all but killed me
My husband's left the home,
The baby's gone to mother
And I'm facing death alone."
We quietly spoke for ages
I held her hand in mine
Then suddenly she stood to leave
And thanked me for my time.

I sat there in a stupor
Recalling how it played
And felt the guilt impact on me
For judgements I had made.
Those callow, shallow judgements
Made in ignorance, my friend,
Will haunt me as she girds herself
To boldly meet her end.

Marshalg
On a bleak and blustery cold winters day.
Titirangi
5th September 2010

Reviews

[realmwriter]

I literally had to get up from my seat and run to bathroom up two flights of stairs, as I began to read the lines in the 6th stanza ""The cancer's all but killed me
My husband's left the home,
The baby's gone to mother
And I'm facing death alone."" and I began to sob. My ex wife has cancer and still to this day, though we have been divorced for some time, when I read words such as these and I hear stories such as this poem, I ball like a child. So I ran up those stairs to compose myself, as I do not cry in public, my anguish is not for others, especially empaths to have to see or feel. Excallent write, My favorite from you...

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

We never truly know the shoes someone is walking in and yet we look at them and judge because we think they are looking at us and judging. With tears in my eyes I write these words and I thank you for writing them. I needed to read this today. My God, how beautiful.

[c.m.]

This is a work of art; truly beautiful. I loved it from beginning to end.