Survivors

Parked one evening, across a traffic light
Hoping that the heavy traffic will subside
The day is almost over, fading to darkness
People seem to pass me by, without notice

Walking along is this brother, uncared for
Like it never matters, what life has in store
Dressed in rags, with a slack in his stride
What is his misery that he cannot hide?

Besides an idling taxicab, he shuffles on
It strikes me then, one of his legs is gone
Unlike his living right one, is a plastic left
I just stare on mindless, of thoughts bereft

The taxicab driver grips my gaze, sadly
Gives me a smile which I return, gladly
In a world full of unfeeling passers-by
Here is a friend who seems to know why

He comes by and tells me his life story
Of how he too lost his leg under a lorry
I may have both my legs, but these two
Happen to relate to my existence in situ

We are all limping through life unknown
Even with healthy limbs, shall we moan
The taxicab driver and the ragged brother
May not have limbs, but something better

Still standing around, traffic has cleared
I could’ve left, but this story hasn’t ended
People come and they go, but moments
Like these can bring about an absence

Of sense and meaning, the joy of living
One has no care, only a lack of believing
I learnt of gratitude, from a ragged lame
And a one legged driver gives me an aim

Maybe life isn’t so pathetic and placid
Such as we force ourselves wretched
It is time to move on, beyond infirmity
Be it of body or mind, into our divinity