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At the edge of winter,
someone leaves a lamp
burning in the stairwell.
Not for the house.
Not for the name
beside the door.
For whoever arrives late.
A nurse gives away
the last minutes of her evening.
A stranger carries bread
up three flights of stairs.
Before dawn,
someone clears the snow
from a path
he will never walk.
No one asks
whether kindness
will be remembered.
The city continues—
trains beneath the streets,
windows opening,
windows closing,
morning gathering
in the glass.
Still, one small act
can shorten the distance
between two unknown lives.
Perhaps courage
is sometimes nothing more
than making room
for another person to pass.
Perhaps humanity
begins here:
with a light left burning
in a place
where someone else
will need to find the way.