On my way home one day, I saw a man stop his cycle to feed some street dogs. The scene felt simple, but not quite.
A Few Coins
A man stopped on his cycle
along a road not yet
flooded with traffic.
Thin, well-worn legs.
Hands all hard labour:
callouses, thick veins, and scars.
Yet he cradled a plastic bag,
looped around the handlebar.
His guests bounded,
all tails and tongues.
A welcome only they could give.
With a rare tender palm,
he patted each head.
No rush to the next.
From the bag came
folded banana leaves,
patiently unwrapped.
Tails thrashing so wildly,
I thought they might lift off
toward the mountains.
Then a lantern lit from within.
His fingertips shone like
torches through dark trees.
His eyes burned with
a glow that made the world shimmer.
A glow I wanted to hold.
Here was a parted veil,
allowing me a glimpse
of what it means to be human.
But then I blinked,
and he was just a man again,
gently portioning a meal
for his loyal friends.
It wasn’t much
but it was all.
Image from Pexels.
An American in Kerala 