Authentic Communication
the story he told, casually
over lunch was enough to tell me
how he felt and draw me in
to his world, make us complete—
one, the way the story
was meant to be
told
there is a part of you
that remains a stranger to me
but still needs to be loved and heard,
deeply understood
this part of me, this part of you
You will come among the ruins
to restore what is found, now,
to be wholly, completely
indestructible: my faith
You become
shuttling between bowls, separating whites from
gleaming oval yolks; shells serve as vessels
to divide up contents: fair and square
my mind wanders in the middle of a mindless
act of separation, around boxes
filled to be emptied into a new home: the intention
to make it all feel familiar
as if two halves could be made whole again
firm, but fragile yolks pass between my hands
still seeking to govern movements,
minimize loss
see the beauty
in debris, here on the forest floor—
living, multi-coloured cast-offs:
leaves, needles, clumps making soil, warming seed;
the sacrificial part of the whole, severed
to preserve new life—
in the Spring, raise up what
we didn’t see
before we sat among the debris