Humanity

Poem 818 – Them Foreigners

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Sometimes, I wonder who the foreigners are?
The ones housed in a nearby hotel I’ve come
to know, whose humanity has touched my soul?
Who had to turn away, with shuddering shoulders,
fearful for their family in Iran?
The ones who persevered, despite their stuttering
tongues, to find a way across the gap?
Who strove to get a job and contribute,
caring in ways that we cannot or won’t?
Or those celebrating its closing down
by insisting ‘them foreigners aren’t welcome here’?

The more I’ve got to know our neighbours, the more I’ve seen our shared humanity.
(12.03.26)

© Ben Quant 2026
Photo by Lisa Marie Theck on Unsplash

Poem 545 – Conversation Café

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An hour of conversation,
That reaches around the globe,
Transcending barriers of language,
And animosity shown.

Taking time to listen,
And talk about our lives,
Comparing holiday plans,
And things that make us thrive

A mutual love of camping,
Shared music of the soul,
A common concern for family,
One humanity unfolds.

Another Friday, another Conversation Café, our informal group for those with English as a second language. Use one of the highlights of my work.
(13.06.25)

© Ben Quant 2025

Poem 344 – Fawkes’ Face

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We are surrounded by so many faces.
I play the game of guess the nationality.
Sometimes I get it right but most not.
‘That’s an American’ becomes a Swede;
the Pole is Portugese; the Irish, Dutch,
the ‘dead-cert German’, a Geordie; and every
other transpires to be a Liverpudlian.
On this day when we remember Guido,
perhaps this ambiguity matters most.

There is great people watching to be had at the hotel at mealtimes…
(05.11.24)

© Ben Quant 2024

Poem 13 – The Assembly

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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