I see your sad eyes.
They grab my attention more than the numbness of your smile.
They say eyes are the pathway to our souls, and I see your soul is tired.
I live here, and you live there, and sometimes it feels like galaxies away, but most days I feel like a foreigner in this land where I live.
I came from the land of disease and famine, desperate for a drink of water. I came from the land of sad eyes.
Here I am now, same eyes, a new soul. I can offer you a drink of water, but you don’t want it.
So, now what?
You crawl through the desert, belly cut up from the dryness of the ground, desperate for rescue.
I am not the rescuer, I have only a drink of water.