Steve GannIn Celebration of Friendship!
December 24th 2006 03:21
Wind Across The Water
She was angry. Not with me in particular, just angry.
I had been unsure of my reception
So I sat in semi-desperation
My jumper in hand as if in supplication.
That her smile was uncertain was obvious.
She looked like a cow who had lost its mother .
Trying to be kind was out of the question
Her need was for more than compassion.
I took the seat that was offered and sunk into the folds
Support of an embrace that felt sweaty and uncertain.
"How's the tea?" The tea was fine. The conversation?
Well that was something else again. Her eyes glazed.
Her attention on the water. Birds skipped and scurried
Busy in the purpose of their existence.
I knew that if I waited she would notice me again
And then it would all come out,
The raw pain, the feeling of betrayal.
We put labels on it and think because it is exposed
That the problem has been overcome.
But that's a lie.
Most times it still goes unreported.
He's a friend of the family. How could you accuse --?
How can I accuse? How can I not?
Suffer the little children. Because suffer they do.
Then they take it with them this sad grey baggage
This damage to their youth ---
and what should be
Their years of gladness.
I watched her face as she came back to me.
Across the water, wind dispersed the heavy fog of heat.
The smile that lit her face illuminating her from within
As she turned to me, to open her heart to a healing
To a sharing
Balm of caring
The warmth of a friend.
She was angry. Not with me in particular, just angry.
I had been unsure of my reception
So I sat in semi-desperation
My jumper in hand as if in supplication.
That her smile was uncertain was obvious.
She looked like a cow who had lost its mother .
Trying to be kind was out of the question
Her need was for more than compassion.
I took the seat that was offered and sunk into the folds
Support of an embrace that felt sweaty and uncertain.
"How's the tea?" The tea was fine. The conversation?
Her attention on the water. Birds skipped and scurried
Busy in the purpose of their existence.
I knew that if I waited she would notice me again
And then it would all come out,
The raw pain, the feeling of betrayal.
We put labels on it and think because it is exposed
That the problem has been overcome.
But that's a lie.
Most times it still goes unreported.
He's a friend of the family. How could you accuse --?
How can I accuse? How can I not?
Suffer the little children. Because suffer they do.
Then they take it with them this sad grey baggage
This damage to their youth ---
and what should be
Their years of gladness.
I watched her face as she came back to me.
Across the water, wind dispersed the heavy fog of heat.
The smile that lit her face illuminating her from within
As she turned to me, to open her heart to a healing
To a sharing
Balm of caring
The warmth of a friend.
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