Perspective

My friend Elena
thinks you’re very cruel.
She’d like to tell you a thing or two.
Yet I know, what bothers her
is but an aberration
of your soul.
Your caring is, I think
the cause
of the fleeing.

You’re tender, and funny,
Can make me laugh.
It exasperates my friend
to see me care
while you seem, to her, to find it easier
to discount a friend she holds dear.

But I know your heart.
I saw you vulnerable, without the layers
we usually erect to those we serve
and who serve us.
I saw you trust.

I tell Elena,
when she calls you cruel,
and says you’re wrong to be so cold,
that I feel your heart.

She shakes her head
and tries to find a way
to set her friend free
from knowing what I know of you.

Yes, this current season is surreal.
I don’t understand how and why you stay aloof.
Yet I know that for every moment we disagree
there are many more when we’ve affirmed
in each other the truth,
delighted in and blessed the spark
that lifts the spirit to the crest
beyond where most mortals
consider themselves richly blessed.

Yes, sure I’ve shed some tears.
She’s been a faithful ear.
Yet you’re as faithful
in your way
as even my protective friend,
who’d like to get your ear
and tell you
what I think you already know.

This I know.
You are kind.
You are dear.
You are tender to those who no one else
will stop to recognize
or even care that they exist.
You’re as honest as you can be.
You’re as steady as you are able.
You’re a delight to me.
You make me laugh.
You help me cry.
You’re not the cause of who I am or how I feel.
You inspire the joy
and sometimes the tears.
My friend Elena is very wise.
Yet this I know:
I know your soul.
-- By Faith Chatham
copyright 2009