Mito M. Boy

Low Sunday 2012

Imagine you are in a great cavernous room;

a place that makes  you feel small, yet safe--

vaulted and open, spacious and free

like a cathedral of trees, or a beech with a breeze.

There, there are many strangers

and acquaintances

from the present and the past

and someone stands and says:

“I am a nobody, no one special.

but I heard something.”

(and—we all love gossip—every ear is ready to hear)

“I have heard that …” he says.

“if you have a secret worry

or a small secret fear--

something you have told no one,

absolutely no one… ever;

or if you did, not in a way that they believe you.

Even your parents did not believe you—

‘oh, poo poo,

you do not mean that’

(because they knew

it was true

and thought if they denied it,

it would not be true)

Well, if you have this thought,

I have heard there is someone

who knows how you feel,

what you think…

In fact, you all have someone,

someone who believes you

and whose eyes drink you in,

whose arms enfold you

without touching your skin

you feel warmth

like when you come in from the cold.

You are transformed ”

He says.  “I have heard this is true.”
I too have heard this for years and years,

but I have not run into this someone.

Not personally.  Have you?

To be polite, I don’t challenge him.

No one does.  It’s such a nice idea.

We all hope we will run into someone like this

for we think we are ready to tell our secrets.

Are they secrets?

What if I have the same secrets?

If I have the same fears, the same worries,

do I need to share my secrets?

Are they still secrets? 

Or do I just think it’s a secret?

What if I go about my business

pretending I know the secrets

of everyone I meet.

Believing them,

drinking them in with my eyes,

enfolding them with my imaginary arms,

sending warmth so they won’t be cold.

Then I would be somebody special.