I walked on that same street
to look for him when next day came.
He was not there.
I wished I could remove the unspeakable pain
on his furious face; etched with lines that spoke of life.
The sacred day he was conceived in his mother’s womb
can it be erased? The day before our eyes had met
linking our hearts that spoke: “Is there still hope for us?”
Searching to find the answer as I ponder how
he pushed his shopping cart away to continue his walk.