Mr. Left says he’s had a spiritual awakening just as I enter the metro car. Ms. Right – an elderly woman across from him – talks about her twelve-step program. It’s like what Jesus says, he explains. That’s why they put it into steps, she agrees. We’re at Girard and the car’s mostly empty, so my eyes blur as I watch the cloudy echoes of Philadelphia ripple past me. It’s just, I know he’s there, you know? It’s all about accountability. Droplets dance on the windows. I try not to look, but I think Mr. Left is crying. Addiction, sin, depression, grief – it’s all out there as we pass 8th Street, then 11th. You know it’s a journey. Exactly, it’s a process. We are all out here reassuring each other. The car becomes a sanctuary.
Church in a Metro Car
Katherine Schmidt is a researcher currently based in Washington, D.C. Her poetry is published in 3Elements Literary Review, Unbroken, and New Note Poetry.