We Don't Know

you don't know,
when he picks up the edge of the rug
whether he's sweeping dirt under
or conscientiously collecting dust
hiding beneath the carpet edge

you don't know,
when they pray around the thanksgiving table
whether they're grateful to see each other
for the first time in a year
or because they don't have to again
until next November

you don't know,
when the tears stream down her face
as you ride the subway next to each other
whether her husband just died,
or the Bach on her ipod
leaves her weeping for joy

we don't know,
when they don't pray as we do
whether they hate us
or just experience the expansive
beauty and majesty of the divine
differently