words never heard, never said
October 21, 2012
The street is silent but for the cars as a cat slinks down the sidewalk, tail slung all the way down. The cat is new to this earth and may not be here for long and I call to her softly. Mau. And I tap my tongue against the roof on my mouth. And with the triple click the cat looks to me and her eyes are wide open, unsure of what she sees. And I blink and I blink to show her I mean her no harm and she stares without blinking and that’s smart, I am sure.
She slinks off and I watch her go and I think of all the lives I shall never know. The paths I will never cross and those that I shall and the way I will never know anyone, and sometimes, I am not even sure I know myself.
I smile about how it has come to this. Me knowing truth as truth is meant to be known. As it is meant to be known as in it comes to me without me coming to it and it requires nothing of me except to be silent and to listen carefully. And as I hear it spoken it throws me hard because it forces me to accept truth as something I do not control.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I said and he said, “You want me to promise I’ll never hurt you?” and I told him, “No. I know you can’t do that. I just want you to know I am hurt.”
And then he said to me, “I am afraid you know me better than I know myself” and all of this time I have kept that knowledge to myself. I have never said what I know and I will never tell. What good is it to speak when no one is listening?