That I Might Know You

I wonder with appreciation for my fellow man.
Swollen with humility, my breath taken in awe.
A heart so full it might burst within my chest
This soul cannot take much more, it seems, these eyes are my betrayers
gluttons, they have feasted on a thousand stories
and binged on the burdens of the human heart.

The woman who dances without fear of scorn
Like someone crazed she flies across the floor
Light and free, I marvel at her very being.
As her husband lies sick at home with confidence of her return
All her stories gathered, collected carefully like treasure for the sake of a promise made
embellished to lighten the burden of what is, and what is yet to be.
she will meet with him to spin her yarn, flowing like tonic to her lover
like a cool wash cloth over a fevered head.
and they will be held by one another at this numbered day's end.

The man who stands upon a wooden stage and sings to me
His endless tales of exuberant joy and of suffocating woe
I swim a hundred seas on the message he conveys
Floating and drowning with each song he croons
As he has crooned to me and countless others before
Giving pieces of himself as if his heart and soul were of infinite provision
A spring of life that should never run dry.
And whether I dance like a fool or sit dumbfounded
Ears and heart open to all that this man may bring
He will fill me up with his love and his hate, with his joy and sorrow.
And I will leave at its end, overwhelmed by the exchange.
Money rationed to glimpse at the heart of a man
which he fashions and flashes for me on his sleeve.

Wondering all the while at how hollow or full his life may be
All the long nights and long roads with so little joy for the light of morning
Does he grow to hate the rising sun? Does he cringe at its color and light?
What beauty does he know? Does life offer a fresh brilliance
Or is it covered with dirt and dust like the soles of his shoes
Does he grow weary of wandering,
does he lose the conviction of his confession?
The way I feel I might be so inclined to do.

The curious husband asking a question left unanswered and feeling negated
by the woman who sits distracted,  transfixed by the infant across the room
intoxicated and aching by the wonders of new life, starved with longing
to wrap the child up in her arms and possess the fleeting sweetness of such innocence
To pocket or package it, that she might know such pure joy for always.
Do they see the hearts of one another? Lost to the will and visions of their own minds
Prisoners to the wayward direction of their own thoughts.
And I am hushed by their beauty,  as she slips a lazy arm around his shoulder
The casual and painful honesty of such long-time love.

The man in the car in front of me, who drives wanton and slow
Who seems to have no care for what lies before or behind him
He is of perfect contentment in the solitude of his confinement.
And I, in my rushing youth, am quick to prod my anger like a red hot iron
Mowing down whatever comes to my plow, like a bull on the streets of Pamplona
To let nothing slow my racing heart down, not even the thunderous voice of God
would cause such a busied body to lay and rest.

And yet this man is my brother. His age, his race is of no consequence.
He is one who tends his garden and walks upright with his fellow man.
Does he curse the pace of life, or the confounded youth who sets it?
He has seen this back road a million times over.
Its trees and fields as familiar as the freckled skin on the backs of his hands.
Seen the sun rise and finds his peace in its fidelity.
He is to me like the soil of the earth—constant and rich in his steadfastness.
Stay slow, sweet man, there is wisdom to the set of your pace.

These are not my stories to keep, but if I could I'd kiss all the world on the cheek
Let the age of time and space shake like dust from my feet
Our souls string together like clumsy beads on a string
We ebb and flow into the arms of one another
like a flood of falling water that rushes from river out to sea.
All separate droplets with no distinction, forming this beautiful mass
That has sacred width and breadth, yet strength with no measure
I and my brothers, my sisters and me.