by John Dauer
The Greyhound station has people everywhere,
noise, luggage of all types, talking, movement, sitting, walking, standing.
I look and look and see no one as I was told:
a woman with children,
no luggage but plastic bags.
I keep looking everywhere.
I walk around. I keep looking.
Then, over there, she appears. I did not see her slip into the crowd.
She is already sitting down and her little boy is on the floor next to her.
And, there sits the big plastic bag full of things.
She is a stranger among all the other people, noise, and commotion.
She is not dressed like the others.
Her Mayan face, her small body makes me guess she is from Guatemala.
She is not smiling.
She looks ahead.
She looks down at the papers in her hands,
She is all by herself.
What does she see?
What is she thinking?
This mother and child appear among us.
I slowly walk over to her and her boy…gently.
