My favorite person · Spiritual Poems · Thinking Poems

Blind sight.

You see that man and mention
that he is a scruffy fellow
ungainly in his blue jeans
uncertain in his skin.
You gently chide his expression
blank from quiet process,
an emptying of emotion,
lest another prick his heart.
I stand and listen lightly
to your words unknowing
(for you have no clue)
that his heart is where mine is going.