A Poem About Nothing
This is about an overnight bus I took over a span of 22 hours to reach a climbing festival in Chattanooga, Tennessee. I shared my seat with many people, some I talked with for hours. Some I broke bread with in silence. This is the America I love.
The decompression of brakes. A line of people. Brown leather handbag. Green Puma sneakers. A small hand holding their guide.
This is America.
The shuffling of feet forward. Shifting luggage and bodies and seats. A face in the window as the bus pulls away. For some, leaving the familiar. For some, heading towards it.
A woman named Sunshine. Native. Pomo. Known for her weaving. Her dancing. Her movements across this country like steps on the dance floor. Unpredictable. Guided from something within her. Something within all of us.
She talks of her son. Of her losses. Equal tears and laughter. We hold fast to one another for a brief moment and she’s gone. I wonder where she is now? Would she remember me?
Another sits down.
I don’t know her name and she doesn’t know mine. Different languages. Different lives. The same loves. The same fears.
The bus stops at midnight. The line forms again. Down the stairs into harsh fluorescent light.
We sit on a bench. A father. His son. A wife and baby close by.
I open my bag and hold out my hello. A hard boiled egg. Eyes meet. A nod to one another. He smiles and takes it. Peels the hard surface. Shares it with his son. Offers me half of his pastry.
This is America.
I sit alone for a moment. Dozing on the window and watching the landscape flash before my eyes. Wonder at the lives in the motel attached to the gas station close by.
Another station. Another delay. Some huff. Some shrug. Books and cigarettes and booze in coffee cups. 4 hours to let rumble by.
Make friends with the two scary looking men debating the Super Bowl. They remind me of the egg.
One laughs so loud it warms the steel bench. Another pokes fun, a smirk playing across his tattooed face. I feel at home.
Crumpled newspaper and plastic bags become a soccer ball. We mark the goals and dribble past one another. The laugh warming the fence outside. The smirk softening the tattooed fluorescent lights. Me, absolutely losing at this game.
We talk about God. About Faith. About messy lives full of mercy.
These two men know more about God than I do. Than the pastor does. Than the professor.
This is America.
The final bus. No compatriots. A grey faded seat with blue patterns. We drive through greenery. Valleys. Hilltops. Lives flash by. Each different and profound and worth more than a talking point. Than a well-versed debate.
I’ve traveled in similar seats across oceans. Across borders with the hours and days dragging by. There is no seat like this one. No bus like this one.
The separation between us is nothing. The difference is nothing.
This country without that bus is nothing.
"When a foreigner resides among you in your land, do not mistreat them. The foreigner residing among you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were foreigners in Egypt. I am the Lord your God" Leviticus 19:33-34
"Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless, the foreigner or the poor. Do not plot evil against each other" Zechariah 7:10
"You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien; for you were aliens in the land of Egypt" Exodus 22:21
"Hear the disputes between your people and judge fairly, whether the case is between two Israelites or between an Israelite and a foreigner residing among you" Deuteronomy 1:16
“He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt.” Deuteronomy 10:18-19
“There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” Galatians 3:28
“Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it.” Hebrews 13:2
“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” James 1:27
“If any of your fellow Israelites become poor and are unable to support themselves among you, help them as you would a foreigner and stranger, so they can continue to live among you.” Leviticus 25:35
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in,” Matthew 25:35
“‘I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’” Matthew 25:36-40
“But our citizenship is in heaven” Philippians 3:20
“The LORD watches over the foreigner and sustains the fatherless and the widow, but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.” Psalms 146:9
