If you are cynical about people,
be with strangers as they sleep.
Roll up trouser legs and sleeves, treat pain,
cover with blankets, step away. Repeat.
When your soul is lonely, when you’ve lost your anchor,
lean in to speak in whispers, in gestures,
in silent rocking laughter.
If you struggle with trust,
remain alert among the resting.
Watch over the slack-jawed, the heavy-lidded
drowsing through sirens and city buses
braking twenty feet away on East Broadway.
If you think that you are no good
inadequate, never-ever enough,
softly wake someone you’ve just met,
send them off slow and smiling
and welcome in the next one
to heal both of you