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This question is never asked publicly. It comes in confidence, usually from a male, after our presentation. I understand the question, since during the involvement I told Billie Barbara much the same thing. It hurt her a great deal. Even now during our presentations it is still an area of pain and misunderstanding. The following is a poem I wrote for the young woman followed by a second look after the fires had been banked.
THE CHICAGO FIRE
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No one knows what goes on behind the faces, for I live in your golden shadow blinded by a rush of bright madness, of burning morning haze, and it is a wonder I function at all.
Yet here in Virginia I wander down this quiet afternoon with friends and clearly see the dogwood exploding in a galaxy of gray turning green. At my feet tiny flowers, fern and moss are seen in perfect detail.
Far from the Midwest we walk at the edge of spring, talking lightly of things, voices in the trees, and no one knows that I am being consumed by the thought of you.
but now
here in another space
another place in time
I read the above curiously
like an old newspaper account
of the Chicago fire
having no idea
of what it is really all about
like pain
such things
will not be remembered |
