our ferocity
all but spent
this mediator
softly invites
the unthinkable
meet her eyes
incredulous
staggered
I pause
and flush
this mediator
crazy
or courageous
gently bids
us converse

her sentences
and mine
clipped from
high hedges
planted in our
encircling bitterness
the taught skin
of face and knuckles
spawned by
convictions and sentences
decreed by our synapses

but still he stays

this mediator
being there
asking
affirming
resolute soldier
in our battle
firing
not a single shot
collaborating
with
no enemy
only
with
a faith
or hope
we can sense
living
inside
cracking
our crust's
hard guard
scratching
rust of rage
reviving
tarnished time

beyond ego's
battered barriers
gleam grains
of dignity
and
doubt
in our
tightly crafted yarns
in the
ferocious forts
protecting
positions

This is the fourth 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.

03/10/2002

Posted on 03/10/2002
Copyright © 2024 Glenn Currier