Friday, 20 March 2015

The Empath by Grant Harbison

She sat facing me on the train

And the way she looked at me

I sensed she could feel my pain

She seemed compelled to dip into my mind

Trying to meld

To see what she could find

There was a kindness to her face

And it was clear that her intention was not to debase

But I did begin to wonder what she was intending

Did she seek to fix what needed mending?

She continued to scrutinise

And when she realised what she’d already surmised

She gave me a knowing smirk

Like she’d cottoned on to one of my quirks

I tried to strike up a conversation

But when the train arrived at the next station

She got up to go

What she saw I’ll never know

She smiled at me before she left

And said, “A heart that’s full is not bereft.”

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