this mediator who
pops in to hear
the history of my pain
in a few minutes
or hours

presuming entitlement
to tinker with
my life
to throb
with my wound

using mind and reason
on the mindless
impulse and retort
on the snap
of fear and panic
on the thump
of hasty riposte

When I think about hurt
it seems like
mixing chartreuse and lime
or oil and water
or skating backwards
for the first time

audacious observer
sitting there
watching
as I undress my soul
asking me to do it
in the presence of
my enemy

here I am
about to leap
into these dark fathoms
not knowing
if I will swim
or hit bottom
or drown

This is the first installment of a larger poem (also posted here) that grows cumulatively as I post each installment; it is entitled: THIS MEDIATOR.

The poem is an attempt to describe the reactions and sentiments of a party in a mediation. Mediation is an emerging profession in North America in which the mediator assists two or more persons with a dispute to communicate and to reach an understanding, agreement, or reconciliation.

02/02/2002

Posted on 02/02/2002
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