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(Once, and only once in this life, the poet has had the amazing experience of watching an Imax movie.

Of all movies, the one playing that day proved particularly appropriate to the venue ~ there we all were, swooping by helicopter over the tiny vessel which succeeded in taking its intrepid team of five further down the Nile River than any First World scientific expedition had to that date achieved.

The poet didn’t see documentary shots, or actors’ portrayals ~ the charming young Frenchwoman who served as the expedition’s cultural liaison outreached in her wonderfully mild and affirmative way in ordinary household settings to actual living members of cultures which we as First World Caucasians would never experience in any other way.

Deep into the continent, near where they would eventually terminate their journey due to illness, this poet watched her speak in signs and smiles with a woman of a tribe so ancient that from here we cannot even see its beginnings. In a master directing move, this scene was presented silently, so that the audience was fully caught up in their body language.

The lady of that “primitive” tribe was, in every posture, every gesture, every smile, the absolute essence of civilized refinement. Set side by side, even Audrey Hepburn would have dimmed in these regards by comparison.

Slender and dignified, she waved elongated fingers with no less innate grace than any exclusively bred European noble ~ but missing any hint of ego; any desire to belittle others. Instinct with sophistication, she bore along with it not a bit of malice.

The Frenchwoman said a word, and made a suggestive shape in the air with her hands. The tribal lady’s eyes and smile said that she understood. Then she attempted to pronounce the same word back again. The Frenchwoman laughed lightly, and repeated the word correctly. 

When she heard her mistake, that woman of deepest, most isolated Africa tilted her lovely head back slightly on its slender and refined neck. Her shoulders lifted a little in delighted amusement. One slender hand, meanwhile, just rose to lightly touch the tips of her fingers to the base of her throat…

She could not have displayed more flawless refinement if she’d graduated from Miss Pernickety’s Exclusive Academy for Young Ladies. And most, let’s face it, don’t.

What an absolutely beautiful picture those two women made together.

We often hear, and repeat, that “a smile is the same in every language.”

But it’s at a moment like that one that you really get it:

It’s that way because there is. No. Real. Difference. Between. Us.

None. Anywhere we go.

Isn’t that wonderful?)

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Recorded Reading (5:20): https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/96607tx8t8lzms1wxlw2e/A-Moment.wav?rlkey=zv5ebp8lzuh2cbkpxi8k4sqmo&dl=0

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A Moment

It doesn’t take more than a moment
That single sweet smile you share
Shiny eyed and genuine
While you’re standing there

The grocery checkout line in,
The crowd at DMV,
The other mother at recital,
Passing strangers that you see

It says, “You know, I’ve been there too”
“I’m not so different from you”
It says “Inside, we are the same
In every nation we can name”

It says, “You have some company
In incompatibility
Manifest occas’ionally
With prevailing reality”

“I can tell you you’re not crazy
If your grip’s a little hazy
In a world sometimes so strange
We can’t seem to our thoughts arrange!”

“Not to worry, not to fret:
You’re not off the table yet;
If they just can’t take your Self
Come and join me on my shelf!”

Or it says, “Are you finding you
Have got a choice between just two
Prospects, when put in review,
Seem like neither one will do?”

“You should see my own just now
I’ve been mulling over how
I’ll manage to make either win ~
You’re not alone your pickle in!”

“You’re not alone,” that’s what it says,
“No, you have company
No matter briefly passing
Its moment here might be,

“It comes from, and it goes back to,
The selfsame bright Eternity
From which we also came
And both which will return unto”

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This poet is physically disabled. Public housing being insufficient to her medical and creative needs, she is presently living, in order to continue working, in her minivan, publishing all of her works using one thumb on the touch screen of her smartphone, surviving at an income of a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. She would treasure any donation you might care to offer ~ http://www.UgiftABLE.com ● #72D-31S.

Please be aware that it takes several days for the poet to be notified of contributions. International patrons please contact the poet via email or post a comment for the necessary numbers.

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