Grace in the City's Hush

I see you with tired eyes.
Flowers tangled in your grip.
Offering bread in the city's hush.

The heart of the streets pauses.
Slows.
Waves of disagreement crash.

Yet you bring kindness.
Is it protest or prayer?
A revolution whispers in weary souls.

Helmets and shields stand guard.
Hoping.
Feet rinse through endless circles.

In this dawn's raw light.
Fingers stretch across dust.
Unexpected quiet becomes grace.

I see you, offering water.
The world shifts gently.
Perhaps beauty is this small gift.

We never thought to seek.
Maybe in this acceptance.
We find ourselves, a bit of peace.

--Vera