wave of a hand

I cannot forget this simple gesture, the wave of a hand. It was at the gas station, I had filled my tank and about to drive off when a car pulled to my right side. We both stopped at our sudden motion and I waited til the blue-green passed. But the car didn’t move. Instead, the driver slightly rolls his window down and lets his sturdy hand slip out of the crack. He waves me pass and allows me to proceed with security and peace of mind.

Many times. I think about what it is I can contribute to this world. In what other ways can I help those around me? More than a smile, I think, sometimes it might just be as simple a gesture as a wave of a hand.

these gestures need no policy,
kindness is best left without
attachments from fame-starved
authors who write of giving
but know nothing of generosity,
oblivious to true poverty and
starvation; a suffering concealed
inside the folds of an anxious
belly whose hunger for one wave
of a hand spills over from the
shadow self moved by darkness


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