RELIGION Poem: God drives a big, city bus, by Nhyiaeso

I don’t care for jesus,
but I pray for the bus driver. Everyday,
while my pen bounces on the page,
I write, “Give this man 1,000 blessings,
no, 100,000. Maybe 1 million this time.”
But how many blessings
could a stranger give?
When he sees me in a button down
and pants I ironed the night before,
I wonder if he feels a spark
of joy in my familiarity. I feel a spark,
but I know I feel more than most,
because he didn’t know I cried,
and screamed, “I love him so much,”
when I got off by the train station,
and I rehearse in my head when I tell him
“Good morning” and “Thank you,”
or wave up at him
since the door further is closer,
that I look forward to him,
that his polo and shorts
means a good day for me. I wonder
if he gets disappointed when he doesn’t
see me at my stop, since I only work
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. I wish
I prayed, because my hope for him
should go somewhere. He stopped the bus
just for me—because damn me! I had
lost faith in that good man
when my phone told me there would be no
8:07 or 8:06, or sometimes he’s here at
8:05, and I decided to shuffle over to the train
station by foot. But, by god! I should never
doubt a man who runs red lights for me.
He crosses his arms and taps that
leg impatiently if he ever has to wait at a red.
So I wrote 1,000 more blessings
for his friends and family, and
I wondered if I should buy him cookies.
He needs to know my gratitude.
He’s a little timid, but he’s got a good spirit,
and I can’t believe he would even
apologize to me! To me?
He’s bald like my father, a kind, Black man, too,
and I wonder if he’s always this soft-spoken,
maybe I remind him of a daughter he has.
I slide the right side of my headphones over
when I greet him, because I’d hate to miss
the sound of his voice. He waved me off
when my bus card didn’t work. I wonder
what his soul is like. I tell all my friends about him,
and I wish they could meet him, too.
Bus driver, I might try religion again just for you.

Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film. View all posts by poetryfest