Meeting Song, for Ivan Gold

let your light shine, shine, shine

Jody speaks and pours his heart out. My heart, which swims with knuckled things and twisted wrenches pours out

and empties. How can that be? We share one heart? Eighteen feet away he sits, a gesticulating black-haired doll

smaller than a monkey when – imaginary arm outstretched – he fits between imaginary thumb, imaginary fingertip.

Even face to face I think his eyes would only squarely meet my breastbone. Jody vomits out his heart and my heart

flushes lots and lots and lots of garbage down the old heartdrain.

Tim speaks now and my head clears. “My peace of mind is broke,” he says, and mine begins to mend. What gives?

Here I find a mind that shares its brokenness and fear with me, that I may mend, as other broken minds shall mend Tim’s.

Jane enters and she sits, compressed by space, by all things pressed. I see her weariness. A fear-took glance assures

her of a space. “In the right place,” she says she is. I crossed from that door, too, with (time teaches!) one well-hid

face of fear and weariness that seemed abiding. So strange! To look at Jane and smile from face-at-rest a

freedomness, to face-oppressed, approaching freedom.

Thump! Creation’s shaggy head with good, good thumps and

scratch behind its ears the scratch it likes and here in this room share that grin with love, and power and (sic!)

sound mind!

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