Elder Brother

I took a picture of a stranger,
many years ago, as he stood outside of Grand Central Station.

With smoke pouring back over his shoulders,
parted by a felt hat upon his head.
Like a rock in the river of the sidewalk. I never saw his face.
It was looking up at the marble and iron of that great city, watching it age in the winter air.
Without knowing his name, I know that we were the same kin.
Or I can only hope.

The odd thing is, I only thought of him, and his picture, listening to news today.
I heard a talking head, claim that we were headed for the same fate that plagues Greece today.
Behind him, video of rioters
fighting armored police ran on a loop.
The talking head and the video were juxtaposed just so
with his monotone voice, and continuous images of fighting in the streets,
forced the viewer's eyes to hear  him and see only violence,
fire, street lights and brutality.

Why I thought of that picture, and its subject are only clear to me now.
His stance, like a stone parting the sea of people, represents to me
standing alone at the end.
The only way to not fear the future, is know the past.
And try, try, try to glean its lessons.

Don't think of it as waiting, but as living ready.