Sitting at the end of the pier,
you and I shared a coke,
our feet dangling in midair.
We inhaled the faint mist rising
from the water, which flowed
with the tide, left-to-right, below us,
and imagined boats drifting past,
carrying people we glimpsed
on the news, people without
homes, some running from, some
running toward. Then, we fell silent,
as children do, who, like refugees,
carry little sense of power, helpless
in the face of pain and despair,
never realizing that we, hands tied,
offered more than the entire city behind
us—hearts in our hands, ready to give
or to take, as the situation required.
(c) 2017, by Hannah Six
Image: Alcatraz Sunrise, by Tony Webster
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