Someone Else Someone New - Henry Shukman

Who is this you
you sometimes meet,
younger, a childlike innocent
who trusts the world?
Or maybe older: they have patience,
take their time,
let the world work out
its own ways, they know
it’s better to be alive
than hurrying to fix things.

They notice daylight itself,
trees, the taste of tea.
You meet them in the morning
when you’re sweeping
or putting away the dishes –
someone humble, who doesn’t
expect anything of anything,
who needs nothing, who knows
everything is already here.

They’re content with the early light,
satisfied by the kettle’s rumble
before the tea is made.
It doesn’t cross their mind
to seek other things.
When tragedies come
they don’t ask why.
They’re made for this life,
this life and they
are friends from the start.

They show you you were
always making the right choices,
what you were so sure
was a trail of errors
was a ripening that now
finally you can taste.

They usher you into what is given,
into this room which just now
morning has chosen to occupy,
where the red armchair waits
in its perfect stillness
and is ready to wait forever.

Shared by Sophie Stephenson