What did the world look like
When I was one of them?
I summon lost memories
To return, reveal all
Alas to no avail
That world is far away

What do they see in me?
Am I to them a friend
To be received gladly
Or a stranger remote
An alien passing through
Merely tolerated?

But as I share my tale
Offered with laughter and
Perhaps a hinted tear
In return hearing theirs
A bridge is built between
Our two worlds divided

At that point between us
Common humanity
Is briefly discovered
Imaginations meet
What seemed so disparate
Brought together, complete

One of the joys of my job as a church minister is taking school assemblies, I love it. But often as I start to speak I realise their is a gulf between us, and that’s just me and the teachers! But isn’t making contact across such divisions one of the most rewarding things?

(21.10.21)

© Ben Quant 2021