This poem was inspired by a reflective post I wrote about a month ago. It explores the quiet joy of seeing through lit windows and the curiosity it stirs about the lives happening within. Windows, with their warm, bright lights, become doorways to hidden stories. Hints of shadows, curtains, and furniture pique curiosity about the joys, struggles, and ordinary moments of those inside. As I walk through my neighborhood, I'm struck by the universality of human experiences: love, grief, heartbreak, and hope. These moments transcend wealth, geography, and culture, emphasizing the common emotional currents that unite us all.
Each illuminated window tells a silent story, providing a look into lives that will never fully connect with mine. I picture their milestones; the excitement of a first kiss, the agony of grief, or the quiet strength required to cope with life's chaos. While these lives stay remote, they are noticed, albeit momentarily, through my reflection.
Observing windows is a reminder of the fleeting nature of life and its interconnectivity. Behind each glass, someone is living their own story, just as I do. These brief moments of connection make me grateful for my personal story while also reinforcing our shared humanity. In those brief glances, the fragility and interconnection of life shine through.
Here's the poem for those who need to translate it.
Windows
At nightfall, I am a quiet trespasser,
on the edges of lives—
strangers, neighbors.
Light spills from buildings
I walk past in the evening,
soft and golden, naked.
I catch the flick of a curtain,
shadows sinuous across walls,
a chair tilted, mid-sentence.
These windows are invitations
to quietly pry
at the thin membrane
between my loneliness
and someone else's story.
Glimpsing in, I see meals steaming,
children laughing,
lovers quarreling,
or a head bowing in prayer.
I imagine their milestones—
the first kiss,
the hangnail ache of first heartbreak,
the thrill of a connection:
soul and heart,
flesh and bone.
And I want to know:
What ugliness do they conceal?
What fears do they harbor?
What dreams burn bright,
even as life is drawing them to change?
This is how humanity lays its soul bare,
tiny but universal.
Behind curtains and luminous walls,
all of us main characters,
throbbing with loss,
glowing with joy,
hardening with regret.
I walk past their windows,
and they stay with me,
as shadows at my heels.
These lives—however brief and bright—
never intersect with mine,
but near enough to matter.
© 2024 Olivia JD
Image credit: Unsplash
Music credit: Pixabay
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