Equal footing
I’m taken by equal footing
That those I encounter can see it the case
That their heartbeats and breath matter to me
There are reasons in their words that make them alive
Once it went like this, before I knew too much, and it stuck,
“You’re so nice, you seem to think.” I try. “Oh do you?”
Trying was to be wrong, efforting was not belonging.
If not to try, I think I’d not be.
As fifty draws near and I’ve heard a few things ,
Like flowers growing, and the heat of the sun, the smile of a baby
The crack of a homeless man’s smile, the earnest in a mother’s prayer
The cry of the bereaved and the flight of the soul
Youth will always be something to listen with
It is has the ears of the unknowing, the threading of the unfinished quilt
The harsh gravel bed of a yet to be paved road laid to somewhere
Or perhaps to nowhere never to be paved.
When my sight and hearing falls into the moment
And the bubble, the shell of your heart, expands, fills with emotion
Fills with humanity, and the sound of every word is two puffs and a draw
My palms open, I lay them on you.
Is this trying?
This the boundary so thin, the sheer weight of my effort
Presses the words back into your heart with fear or surprise.
Three draws and no puffs. “Oh do you?”
I must. We must.
And if that thin bubble can stand the pressure
If I’m accepted, one more breath and one more heartbeat
One more desiring and longing and trusting word fills it at a time
If I’m engulfed in that space
Then you have been accepted in mine. Feel free to stretch out
We now have twice the leg room. Yours and mine. No longer alone.
If not to try, I think I’d not be.
I try. Oh yes I do. And so must you.
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