Sometimes a life
is more than the sum of its
cuts and bruises, more
than the sum of its success.
What is a soul’s net worth?
Some days you turn a corner
and before you a scrap of field
unfolds in a green you had forgotten,
you turn a corner and
a streetscape surprises—
the slope of a red roof over a small window,
the blue painted door,
the black iron knocker.
Every now and again
you travel without intention
and the stranger face suddenly appears
human as your own.
~ from Undercurrents, New Voices in Canadian Poetry
edited by Robyn Sarah (Cormorant Books, 2011)
