We think we’re unique,
but we are just reflections,
of other lives.
Our births and our deaths,
of the lives of those
who went before.
Looking down to see our faces in the water,
we see other faces
our parent, our grandparents,
and their ancestors.
When we despair,
we forget that others did the same before us,
echoing and shadowing,
the fears our fathers felt.
Every new day,
we wake thinking that our problems are different,
never knowing that hosts of others walk the same path as we do,
think the same thoughts as we do.
we cry the same tears as our neighbor,
and our neighbor’s grandmother.
How can we not notice
that the sorrow in our eyes
is the same sorrow
as the man we pass on the corner?
How can we not see a picture
of a woman a million miles away
and not recognize her smile
as the same one that was on our face earlier that week?
How can we not realize that
we are part of one life,
like expressions on one face,
we are facets of one soul?
Yet somehow, we never do see it,
and even now
someone cries out that he is alone
when he stands in the company of millions.