Sunday, February 22, 2009


Artist unknown
Only six people, it is said
separate any person from another
anywhere on this earth.
I want to believe that,
I want to believe
with just six connections
I could know an Eskimo,
an African tribesman,
a mother in Iraq.
I want to believe it would take
only six people to reconnect
with a gypsy I once saw,
the woman in cold rain
on the steps of the Duomo
in Florence, Italy. I would find her
again, her feet knobby and bare,
her black hair tangled in dusty braids.
Begging, she would whisper again
for my bambino, please,
for my bambino
and this time
I would take her chapped, brown hand,
place lira in it, close
her fingers around the bills.
This time I would get it right,
not turn aside
as her sleeve brushed my coat.
This time my shame
would not outweigh hers.
- Sharon Auberle
In going through old writings of mine, in preparation for a book of collected poems, I came across this favorite, previously published in The Peninsula Pulse.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

A magnificent poem, and one that deserves wide circulation. Thank you for sharing it with us.

8:20 AM  

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