Tired and Quiet Voices
This poem was written after an evening out at a business awards function. It describes a journey home in a taxi
My favourite conversations Are with the drivers of the carsWhich collect us late at nightAnd take us home beneath the stars Last night it was FrancisSometimes it's HusseinOften a MohamedDriving through the autumn rain We've entered the awards seasonAnd I had just missed the last trainIt's a twenty minute drive back homeAlong a long and winding lane 'How are you this evening?'I will often ask'Not bad' they'll quietly replyTheir minds firmly on the task 'Has it been busy tonight?' I persistOver cocky from the boozeIf I keep going he will answerHow can he possibly refuse 'Yes, busy, busy...very busy''Will you be finishing your shift soon?''I hope so, but I don't knowI started earlier this afternoon' 'Do you have any children?' 'boys', 'How many?' 'I have two''That's nice, fantasticWhat do they want to do?' 'They just want to play football''Do you support a team?''They want to play for ArsenalI won't deter them from their dream With God's love, he will carry themMake all their wishes true''Can I ask about the faith you have?'Yes, of course...God is in everything I do' 'What is it that makes you believe?Why is your faith so strong?How did you come to find your faith?Have you been religious long?' 'I'm a Christian' He says to me'I go to church each week,I grew up believing in the lordHe's in all I do and speak' 'That's fascinating, I'm envious To have a faith, like yours, so strongI'm often drawn to find my own faithBut stop short, does that sound wrong?' 'God is with you' he said to meI looked around me, just in caseWouldn't that be a miracle If God was with us, in that tiny space? I triggered something in FrancisHe opened up to meAbout the depth of his beliefsAnd the world religious eyes can see I'm always listening to these storiesTrying to understandTonight the taxi driver Opened up his wonderland Francis took me on his journey Drove me from a to bBut it was our conversation Which will forever sit with me I don't think I'm any closerTo what I think or feelBut one thing that I will take awayIs that Francis' faith was real In that journey we became companionsOur lives felt closer as we spokeBehind those tired and quiet voicesWas an ordinary bloke I wrote this poem for FrancisAnd to remember what he saidI'm grateful to all the taxi driversWho get us home and safely to our beds