The Beauty of Strangers

There are tongues
That speak to us more
Sincerely and closely
Than ever could one’s mother,
Than ever dared our brethren
Among us.
There are signed confessions brought forth
One can only make out
To a stranger,
Determined secrets revealed
Without our knowing,
While attaining from them
A self they will never meet.

There are jaded eyes
That replenish us anew,
Hold us still and
Challenge our humanity,
Resetting the game in no-one's favor.
There are backward glances
Looking forward beyond,
Beyond our eternal place of hiding,
Stating,
‘Do not be fooled
By my looks,
By my gaze
Be fooled only
By my character.’

There is transmission
Of silences
Carrying moments
Of speechlessness,
Moments of honoring the dead,
Moments of waiting one’s turn,
Their turn produced you.