(Rebellions, religions, or raindrops)
so much loving-kindness in a place
that is not a house of worship
as if the air is electrified,
enormous waves of empathy flow from
hands, eyes, and laughing smiles.
In the parking lot, a man tells me
it's a beautiful day and he's got
the best job in the world;
later, I realize he is a janitor.
Everything seems exaggerated, efficient;
outside, brightly colored chrysanthemums
and orange pumpkins, inside the remnants or
remains of the former mansion, juxtaposed
with modern furniture, polished with pride.
Ghoulish Halloween decorations contrast
the nurses and aides, walking and swaying
with the grace of a thousand reasons.
Some people, slumped in sunny spots,
covered in red blankets, sleep in wheelchairs.
Cheerful volunteers touch or talk gently;
over silences and screams, everywhere I see
the grace of a thousand untold stories,
despite religions, rebellions or lack of raindrops.
Thanks to etouffee and Jet-Poop for the title variation idea