All in A Day :       Susan Kohn Green

From ;

The narrow grass-lined sidewalk in White Plains  

Where, today, my grand daughter had it to herself;

When her father took the training wheels off her bike.

For the first time he let go  and …

She peddled joyously down her sidewalk 

In the suburbs

And no one saw, no one knew, but us - 

Oh, perhaps a tree or two.

To;

Walk from the train across A Hundred and Twenty Fifth Street

Where women in African dress of turquoises and oranges

Or purple and brown, blues and whites

Wound around them to the ground - 

Matching scarves wrapped around their heads

Sat on chairs outside the door of 

The Holy Ghost Church

Or stood on the corners, hands on hips, 

Deep in conversations ,

Chatting in languages I do not know.

Men in t-shirts and blue jeans 

Or white dashiki, perhaps grey, 

In kulfi or skullcaps or long corn-row braids,  

dreadlocks or rastacap

Or flat twists or Mohawks or pony tails…

or crewcuts.

An old, thin woman bent nearly double 
Over her walker, jaywalking ,
Beating the light. - 

Children scampering, skipping, or

Or learning to walk, reaching out tiny hands

To pet my white, fluffy Jolie.

Women in floral or sequined  black hijab, 

An occasional abayas and burkha  -   

Or in blue jeans, pushing strollers,

The babies, grabbing at their toes.

Women in saffron or sky blue saris here and there-

Or in tight dresses ,

Revealing all,

With blue and green hair flowing.

Venders packing up the street wares of oils

Or jewelry or scarves 

Teens hooting and running..

A basketball bouncing..

Sirens, honking horns, 

Djembes’ rhythms drumming down the street

Laughter, whoops, running feet.

To

A quiet pale blue room                       

Darkened, but for pinpoints of flashlights

Focused on ancient Hebrew words

Silent and solemn people read,  

Some on chairs, some sitting on the floor, 

All bent over the text ,                           

Their fingers following the prayers on the pages

Quiet , but for one pure voice intoning the prayers 

for Tisha B’av.. 

A day of designated  sadness and despair

For the Destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem by the Romans

Oh, two thousand years ago

Destroyed by the ravaging hoards of another religion

Another sect, Just another’s need for power….. 

But thought of as God’s revenge for misbehavior:

As an ancient  mosque in Mosul was destroyed just weeks ago

And Troy was destroyed  - what - three thousand years, now…_

A quiet reading in the dim blue room,

Pinpoints of light to mark 

A darkness in time.

To 

Walk our little white poodle

Under the moon in Central Park

Where the other dogs are running free , 

Chasing over the grass

And we, their people,  schmooze

And all is peace on the path with the moon

And the shadows of the trees

And the laughter

And the occasional bark.

I’ve walked worlds…

And all in a day