Escalator


I search for God in other people’s faces
as I go downwards while they’re coming up
or while I’m coming up as they go down
to catch the trains which burrow underground.
I ask myself if I can see the traces

of the love they say he feels for everyone
and we’re supposed to feel towards each other.
But he must be more generous than me
if he can love so indiscriminately –
most look so dreary, although where’s the fun

in trekking to and from the daily grind?
And are they really all my sister/brother?
When their sad eyes catch mine, I don’t think they
spot a kindred spirit: they quickly glance away
as I do – from the face we’ll leave behind

safely out of sight, and out of mind.

Tom Vaughan