I would be more cynical, I suppose, except it feels unfair
to the people who have been good to me.

My life, as I look back, has been littered with kindnesses.
Once, a woman made me tea. Asked me if I might sit in the garden,
as it was such a lovely day.

I was at the end of some particular rope of worries, as usual,
and in the sun they scattered away.

The story of my life
has been the story of other people
who have been in love
with basic decency and ordinary mercy.

I was caught up in their affairs,
and so made whole.

Imagine holding a beggar’s bowl
and being given the means
with which to be generous.

My judgment is clouded, for
I have been obliged towards beauty.

Some will say I leave too much out
of the moral equation.
“There are some people…”

Well, yes, and
that’s the thing.

There are some people.