New York City Subway May 24th

It is crowded standing room only.Door slides shut. I am not able to get very far from it as I grab the nearest pole. A young man who has a grotesque face stands against the door as he is barely in. Suddenly I hear no noise. I am drawn to him. Every fearful image that terrorizes one's thoughts is in his face. Every mother's nightmare threatening the welfare of her children is in his face. A face that has the power to evoke tears from a child or pity from someone. Is there a someone in here? His skull concave,large,forehead long screams out entrapment and injustice. His face has the power to repel. Everyone looks away. He looks down. His eyes are popped and move independent of each other. What does he see? Our eyes meet.We stare.A split second. Then I get over it and I smile. He quickly looks away. Or did he look away before I smiled? He is like a cave dweller who resists light. I do not know what to say. People do not speak on a subway. It is bumpy,disjointed like my thoughts. Should I say anything at all ? Does a smile say enough? Is this moment authentic? Misinformed DNA, chaotic molecules dictating a life. Eyes cast to the floor. The car jerks and jolts us I say"Hold on there, Buddy." He smiles slightly and paws the pole. The train halts.Door slides open. Cuts the air like a razor reminding me of the Catholic confessional , the nakedness of baring one's soul. The young man gets off at Soho. His body young and strong His hair brown, childishly curly. He disappears with a limp into an unforgiving crowd. I keep thinking that man looks at the outward appearance but God looks at the heart and how we wear our ugliness on the inside. Misinformed DNA Chaotic molecules dictating a life. Apathetic eyes cast to the floor. by Barbara Aquila