top of page

282: Unwritten Agreement

We have this unwritten agreement,

us members of humanity. 

When the toddler at the coffee shop runs around the corner,

when her mom, at the register, looks up in panic,

we, the adults in the room, will pledge 

with silent head nods and quick smiles 

to keep watch. 

We will lean out of our seats.

We will put down our phones. 

We will stand at the ready 

to scoop up,

to offer words of comfort,

to make silly faces,

to keep an eye on the door. 

And we will do this, 

because we cannot ignore the instinct to care. 

We will do this, 

because we cannot ignore  the child right in front of us. 

When did that stop applying to the children far away? 



Written by Sarah A. Speed // Writing the Good


Recent Posts

See All

278: Asking for Bread

I don’t know what God looks like, but I know how big the sky is. I don’t know how to fall in love, but I know that it’s happened like I know the sound of your voice. I don’t know how to slow down in a

274: A Seat Saved For You

I cannot tell you about all the places I belong without telling you about my family’s dinner table, about the stories my father would tell there, voice swelling like a violin. I cannot tell you all th

Comments


sarah branding-hannah brii photo-69_websize.jpg

Hi, thanks for stopping by!

I'm Sarah (Are) Speed, the writer behind Writing The Good. I'm so honored you're here! To get more poems, follow @writingthegood on Facebook and Instagram! 

  • Facebook
  • Instagram
bottom of page