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How open should I keep myself to the suffering of others as their healer?
Each new man comes in unable to breath, chest reified into stone with their certainty about how wrong their wife is.
They bluster their fear at these women who love them, thinking they are solving the thing they are creating.
The little girl in their wife looks out of the outraged woman's eyes, so sad and bewildered at the betrayal. Both girl and woman convinced by the silly mask the terrified man wears, writing epoch poems of injustice which are justified and just as off the mark as is his "logic.”
I watch them take pot-shots at each other, only half trying to hurt - really trying to help the other back to a better time.
Time. So much of it lost in the snake biting its own tail and rolling down the years.
I feel the weight of that lost time, and its heaviness feels like sadness in my heart. But perhaps it's just weight.
Maybe I'm misreading my feelings. Maybe the weight is just the love I feel: for the scared boy, for the betrayed girl, for the little bits of man-flesh that haven't yet turned to stone, for the angry woman fighting for her life; for myself, who volunteers to go into this nuclear reactor of relationships, over and over, with the tools to collect the radiating energy, and cool the fires down to one man and one woman who love each other but don't know how.
Max,
ReplyDeleteThis is a beautiful and powerful writing. It is really helpful to me that you share your feelings and insights. I can see the those children you describe. As painful as it is to recognize that they "love each other but don't know how" it has to be extraordinarily gratifying when you can get them to break through the pain of the past and connect in the present- when you are able to teach them how to love each other. A.Brown