Lost in the Crowd
I wear my loneliness like a cloak. It’s
more than a cloak. It follows me around
like a faithful dog. Or maybe it sits
on my shoulder, like a stunned crow I found
splayed in the gutter with a broken wing.
I feel like a stranger in a strange land,
surrounded by people who do not sing
my song, or speak a tongue I understand.
Ah! how I’d love to meet someone like me
in the clanging crowd, someone with sad eyes
who speaks to me without words, wistfully,
in an ancient language that never dies.
Whose secret glance says to me, Welcome, Stranger!
—For such a one as that I’d enter danger.