I can’t stop any war,
But I can brake my car,
In the middle of a busy road,
To let an immigrant woman,
Overloaded with grocery bags,
Unable to replace her slipped hood,
In the windchill of minus twenty,
To rush to reach the bus stop across,
As the bus stands on the red light nearby.
Cars haulted behind honk horns helplessly,
As if the world has stopped.
While the woman safely sails across,
Happy to stand at the stop looking at the bus,
That will now arrive any minute,
And stop for her to board.
I drive away victorious…