(dis)affection

I wish I had a bottle of humanitizer
I could pump some into your hands
Eliminate the germs that separate us.
Of course, it is hubris to think
that my hands or ears or mouth
lack infection.

None of us remain untouched for long.

Apathy, numbness, rage, hatred.
Germs that go on the offensive
preventing the salves from seeping
into our woundedness.
Barriers so deep that neither
pain nor joy break through.

Germs that leave us flat as a pancake.

One squirt from that flimsy plastic pump
will help for awhile.
We might laugh or sing or dance for a time,
but what we need are portable gallon bottles
carried by imps and angels
offering humanitizer to everyone and everything.

Humanitizer only works if it is available to all.

So, we pour some on each other’s hands.
Slowly the jokes at one another’s expense fade.
Then the rhetoric of enemies or other.
The one line defenses- gone.
We notice feelings in ourselves.
We see and hear and recognize one another.

Oh, look- it is working!

Next we begin to feel-
uncomfortable, unsure, fearful, alone, anxious.
The breath feels tight, the head light,
the stomach all in knots.
We tremble, we look away.
We even cry a little.

Then, as if by magic, we see one another’s tears and embrace.

We pause, we breathe.
One more dollop of humanitizer.
We watch the sunrise- the silence fades.
That buzzing in the ears is gone.
So is the fogginess in the brain.
We pause, letting the humanitizer soak into our souls.

The weather report says chance for showers- and all is well.

And we stomp puddles into the horizon.

7-29-13