On my way to work today sitting on the bus I decided to put in my ear buds. I do that sometimes to block out the noise, chit chat and drift off to my singer, my choice today Damien Rice – 9 Crimes. Today I did not turn on the music right away. I observed the people on the bus. The girls on either side of me were reading messages on their phones and listening to music. Perhaps they were pretending as I was…who knows? Then the girl across from me was reading her phone. The man next to her was scrolling on the face of his phone…perhaps reading an article, the news or a book.
An older woman (older than me, so that would be close to 70ish); The girl across from me stared at her and looked around…I supposed (I’m guessing) she was hoping someone would give her a seat…but she never offered or even shifted in her seat to show any signs she would. I was about to give her my seat but I noticed she was walking with a purpose and I looked at the far end of the bus and there were a few free seats way at the back, so I waited.
The woman continued on her quest towards the back of the bus, walking slowly, cautiously…no one lifted from their seats…she went up the 2 steps to get to the far back. I could tell she had seen a few free seats. And she sat down at the last row. Many do not go that far because of the steps. She did.
When we get on at the front of the bus there are about 6 seats assigned for older passengers, persons with disabilities, pregnant women and parents with a baby carriage. Rarely have I seen people giving up that seat to people who should have it. In fact even the parent with a carriage, the bus driver will have to bark out orders for passengers to give their spot that has been designated to this person. As for the other designated passengers, even the bus driver does not intervene. I wonder about that sometimes. If I am seated on any of those seats, I always give my spot or offer it but it disappoints me to see that many younger people do not.
Well, the purpose of this post was really to say that I was window shopping…I mean stranger gazing. In the entire bus and it is a long double bus …you know with an accordion attaching the equivalence of a half a bus. At the centre is a circle where passengers can stand and turn…wiiiiii with the bus when it does make turns. I only saw one couple at the centre, standing and chatting. They looked in their early to mid-twenties. Guy was trying to impress gal with his knowledge of bus schedules as it appeared to be gal’s first time taking this bus to get downtown. It was interesting observing the body language. If I were working on a research project in anthropology, I would say they were flirting. Ah, March love affairs and the approach of Springtime…I sighed a bit thinking about this. There is something so powerful about this time of year that seems to stir the heart.
Everyone else on the bus was either reading a book, reading or staring at their phones or had their eyes closed. What did we do when we did not have screens to stare at? And even if we had music to listen to, did we not see, observe, and notice humanity? Did we not witness human kindness? I do think we still do but it may be a bit more difficult to see. Thank goodness there is a kindness blog I like to follow that allows me to see how wonderful we still are, and I weep happy tears at the kindness of people.
I have to say that my bus trip in the city yesterday was so much different. I was seated next to young man with long hair; he was placing his guitar next to him and his backpack under his seat. I had suggested he use the front shelf behind the bus driver for his bag so it wouldn’t get all wet. And we then chatted all the way to the city. He had an amazing life, coming from a small town in Northern Ontario, travelled to Vancouver a lot and would be spending the summer there with his girlfriend. We talked about Hastings Street and I mentioned I had driven by there once and had not particularly been shocked and he said he lived on the streets by choice for several years. I was so pleased talking with him. It was like talking to a caller I may have spoken to on our phone lines, who knows but I felt a nice connection and it really boosted my day. A great way to start my shift.
Unlike today but my walk in the glorious March sunshine, I walked slower to allow the air to wrap me with its loving Spring essence and even took a few shots for prosperity.
Plunging toes
in salty liquid
steam doth rose
from scalding heat,
soaking like a marinade
softens like a serenade
bathed in salted water
feeling such a deepened shift
startled, winded
from this swift
ache amended
gasps for air,
heart is seized
moments concede
tears that seep
and wet her cheek
clean,
saline,
cleanse her face
bathing eyes,
panes of the soul
halts the throb
her aching dole.
As a teen she felt insecure, shamed
she simply wanted to hide away
felt undressed with eyes, defamed,
made her feel on public display;
passing construction sites
the worst of all transgression
feeling eyes taking wee bites
of her dignity, her self assertion.
And then she grew so much older
could finally saunter down a street
head up high and feeling bolder
no comments heard, indiscreet
suddenly she had become invisible,
walked in stores, not even noticeable
sales clerks gazed above her head
wishing to cater to a younger set
20 and 30 something adults instead.
travelling on busses and subways
she disappeared in so many ways
youths with their real smart phones
ears plugged, heeding their drones
mostly self-absorbed with conceit
rarely considering to give up their seat
she had become invisible…and yet
she saw the hunched backed person
mounting the steps with a cane,
a man struggling to breathe in vain,
a woman with child still in her belly
who could miss a thing of such beauty?
they too had all become invisible
how come she could still see these people?
offering her seat, was the only suitable
and proper thing to do…
Getting older gives her freedom
no longer fraught, not even a tussle.
by salespersons or deviant men
she walks anywhere without a hassle.
It can be trying in eateries
when waiters just ignore
older women frequently
assuming this group of females
will seldom produce a nice gratuity
ah yes, that rule may be unspoken
they cater more to men of all ages
presuming they will get a better token.
How very rude and pejorative
to hold on views so negative!
but as long as older women stay invisible
they may as well make their tips miniscule. {grins}
This is not poetic in nature, and to call it a free verse is using the term loosely. However, I wanted to share where my writing all began at Alecoute-Ntouch, a site informing folks of workshops I was offering on life skills and professional and personal development. But then I got acquainted with WordPress and the world of blogging and discovered I had a lot to say too…
(haiku)
An idea simmers. Words produce an awareness conscious convictions.
Street Art Montreal Summer 2013
I began writing to voice my thoughts
with Cher Shares, that was my first start,
voicing opinions, I sure did have a lot;
And then I was inspired by Herding Cats
that’s when my vision shifted a tat
I got on my soap box hoping to make a dent
at Stigma Hurts Everyone I wanted to vent,
yell out to the world that which is important
to me, things just needed to be heard,
nothing exceptional because some
may even have a knack to say it better
but maybe if we shout out loudly together
our voices may be heard that much noisier.
And then Cher Shares became a comfort zone
to write a story here, there, or even a poem
And, that’s the tale of how it all started
my story of a humble love affair
of words that I write from the heart
of passion, love and sometimes conviction
that’s why I blog, where I got my inspiration.
Tournesol dans un Jardin 