A Stranger In Line. Poem by Adrian Wait

Standing in tranquil stillness
There was a touch of sadness
Within his eyes and stature
Not for himself, yet, for us
We stood in steel cold rows
Awaiting the stern, “Next”
Breadline, the stranger to dignity
Those who serve are tired
and long to somewhere else
in a warm bed, but duty calls
nameless faceless we pass
before them, amongst them
equal under God, not in this line.
For those who give, have power
we have hunger, and want
vulnerable, frozen fingers, take only
The blessed gift of giving stolen
Yet, the stranger in the line
brings dignity, a oneness.
In the silences of his being
the pain of rejection
written on his face, his eyes
search the heart and touch the soul
there is an amazing kindness
in the grace of his being
“Next”, and we shuffle forward
I watch the man has he breaks bread
He comes amongst us
sharing the little he has
In the light of dignity
He holds us, for a moment one
As we share his meal
And somehow we feel
Restored, whole, a person
Light of light in our darkest day
We, the unworthy, the rejected
Graced by the stranger
Amongst us, within us
On the breadline.