he is hurt because he is hurt

there is a hand

there is a happiness

there is a hand and there is a happiness and if the happiness belonged to him then perhaps the hand belonged to the happiness

that is one way of arranging the furniture

he is sad because he is sad

he is hurt because he is hurt

a hurt boy can make a hurt room and a hurt room can make a hurt world and soon enough everyone is walking into walls

i watched this happen

i watched and watched and watching became a kind of religion

people say do not worship suffering

people say many things

they also invented the atomic bomb

so there we are

if he came to me tomorrow and said

the left hand

the left hand is the price

i would put it on the table like a loaf of bread

i would say take it

i never learned moderation

only devotion

there is a difference

a dangerous difference

a difference with blood in its teeth

the saints knew this

the martyrs knew this

the ones like me who mistake devotion for destiny know this

they kneel

they offer

they burn

he would smile perhaps

or perhaps he would not

the tragedy is that it would not matter

the hand is not the point

the point is that i wanted sunlight to reach him

the point is that i wanted joy to enter him like the wind enters a valley

ringing and ringing and ringing

the point is that i saw a darkness in him

and something dark in me stood up and said

yes

i know that country

so i loved him

not sensibly

not safely

not in a way that would impress a therapist or a priest

i loved him like weather loves a coastline

like a fire loves a house

like a wound loves the tongue that cannot stop touching it

there is a hand

there is a happiness