You hold elevator doors,
pick litter off sidewalks,
Hope that somehow it balances
the blind eyes,
the petty jealousies,
the bumbling gaffes when words
just didn’t come out right.
Sins of omission.
These are no Great Thing.
Yet, as drops in the bucket,
they grow to drowning weights.
Just when you start feeling like a shadow,
Ariel dresses your wounds.
Alonso buys you a drink later–
after Miranda drives you to the bar.
(She also refuses to let you walk home.)
Adrian visits while you swab the decks,
pacing like he’s waiting for the first sight of land,
always good for a joke and a word of advice.
Antonio climbs the Most Terrifying Ladder
to sit with you in the crow’s nest;
tells you a piece of his story.
And somehow you don’t even notice–
not til The Tempest’s cleared and you’ve left the isle.
And then you ask yourself
why didn’t I say thank you?
I have always depended on the kindness of strangers:
Hecate cannot tell who’s her friend.