I Passed a Woman Crying in the Street

I passed a woman crying in the street
spilling her grief
along the empty pavement.
Silver cars
paused at the lights.
If she'd been an infant I’d have known
to smile - as strangers do
because they know that sorrow
will be brief
and part of life.

And if she’d been a lover I’d have bent
to kiss her tears
and tell her that her misery
was less
because we loved.

But being a man and knowing that, of course,
it's not my place
to intrude on private grief, I crossed
the street
to give her space.

John Wood


If you have any thoughts on this poem,  John Wood  would be pleased to hear them.