Here is the latest installment of Poet’s Corner, presented by the Edmonds Poetry Group.

The Woman On The Sidewalk

It was just about four-thirty, still dark and a bit chilly

outside. It was on the corner of Broadway and Harrison

in Seattle, Washington.

I noticed an elderly woman with her belongings, sitting

on the sidewalk, unwinding from the aches of sleeping

in the cold, surrounded by…unwillingness of choices.

I felt my heart crumbling inside. A feeling of urgency

came over me. A cry to reach out…and help. I walked

to Starbucks. When I returned, I handed her, the large

coffee, creamers and sugars, along with the rest of the

change from the twenty. She graciously thanked me.

As I was walking away, I kept looking back, because

she reminded me so much of a strong woman. She

might have seemed helpless before her surroundings,

but she was brave enough, to sleep on a cold and dirty

…sidewalk.

Tyler Marcil

~ ~ ~ ~

Autumn Thoughts

A warmer day, miserably humid weather I was not

used to. It had been 30 years since I sat foot in the

unprogressive town of Bayou Goula, Louisiana where

my aunts, uncles, cousins, and a few friends from first

grade still called home.

I arrived August 2024 for a couple of days for the

viewing and burial of my 90-year-old mother,

Mrs. Dorothy G. Williams.

Driving along the city streets with one of my brothers,

Ramon in Baton Rouge, searching for a health food

store, my body weakened, had not eaten since Tuesday

after flying most of the night and early morning hours

arriving on Thursday mid morning.

Out of the corner of my eye waiting for the light to turn

green, I noticed two women, 30ish laying on an old

wooden broken down dark green bench. Their bodies

posed like a valentine’s heart split in half perpendicular

to each other.

Their arms posed like pillows, while their bodies were

clad in a midriff dark green t-shirt halfway covering

their thick bellies, beige full-size panties meeting their

waistline.

Their worn brown loafers sitting like anchored

boats on an uneven sidewalk facing the city streets.

Suddenly, dark clouds started to spread across the sky like

a woman’s hat veil pulled over her eyes dressed for a funeral.

Uneasy feelings garnishing my perspective about society’s

ignorance, after seeing two Negro women asleep, their bodies

resting peacefully, it seemed through the noise of loud car

engines, sirens, and loud rap music blasting.

This world, these humans with no place safe, no place

decent, no place to rest their humanly bodies in a safe

place like home.

Lives we take for granted, lives disbanded from society,

this injustice I saw made me sick, sickened, and sad,

saddened for them. Their bodies publicly displayed for

auction’s bidding.

Tyler Marcil

~ ~ ~ ~

My Seattle Mom

April 5th, 2023, a week after my back surgery at

Harborview Medical Center, I noticed a gentle familiar

face looking through the door. In her hands was a pot of

pansy ready to greet a new set of hands.

As she handed them to me, her soft-spoken voice

whispered, “You need a Seattle mom.”

Startled at first, I wondered why she wanted to be

my Seattle mom. It took a while for her words to settle

nicely into the pit of my belly. It was the first time

someone cared about me without wanting something

from me in return.

I thought it was refreshing.

She sat for a spell, her conversation ever so meaningful.

After her first visit, I wondered a few times if she would

return.

When she did…she and I shared poems and laughter with

each other. Her warm cozy smile made me feel like we

were forming an unbreakable bond that was far from

letting go.

Kristina, thank you for welcoming my existence like

an unbuttoned sweater thrown over your shoulders.

Tyler Marcil

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Tyler A. Marcil is a writer of narrative poems.  In 2019, he began studying writing at Path With Art/Hugo House from Scott Driscoll. Later, he joined Epic Poetry Group &  Under The Rainbow storytelling group. His poems can be heard on Radio Tacoma. He is writing his first novel, a memoir.