Sonder
The woman sitting across from you,
her fingers gently tracing the curve of her coffee cup,
is a universe of her own.
She carries a grief you’ll never see,
a joy she’s yet to share.
A name whispered at midnight
that you will never speak.
She wore a dress once,
dancing barefoot in a summer rain,
a memory tucked in the corners of her smile,
while you were somewhere else,
maybe folding laundry
or staring at the same sky
she’s looking at now.
But it’s not the same sky, is it?
Her thoughts are vast and tangled,
weaving through the spaces
between your words.
She is a story,
unfinished,
written in a language
only she understands.
She crosses the street
and a man watches her
from behind a window.
He doesn't know
that her heart was broken
by a letter she never sent,
a goodbye she never said.
You will never know her name,
never hear the stories tucked
in the folds of her heart,
but for a brief moment,
her life touches yours
as she passes by,
and you wonder
how many others
she will never know,
how many lives
she’s only a shadow in.
