traffic lights

Stuck, still, traffic bound, sat
in silent solitude, surrounded by 
my fellow man, each encased
in learnt response,
reacting to each small inflection,
never more than their reflection.

a woman walks, smile arresting,
her soul is etched, by need and hate,
contoured to her given face,
her eyes cast back, my own construction,
sat here, bound, a tired agent,
dreaming of emancipation.

the light, it changes,
breaking state, a reflection of
my inner scape. The journey
drives us past our haste,
an automaton craving grace.