Two jar by nature. Irresolvable opposition
is the seat of change, of perception.
Harmony in conflict. Peace in stress.
Instability in equilibrium.
I cannot extend the span of my empathy
and stay inside the fold, shielded
from the social winter that drives
the tough outsider on. See
how I change: empathy flows then cuts
me off. The two jar: isolated empathy,
empathic isolation. But it’s as natural as grass,
as Yin and Yang. Two jar by nature.
Opposition creates sense; sense
bubbles up from its well, this first position,
this deep fundament. One rises from two
to begin variety. Opposed hands shake,
one agreement is struck. Then endless
interpretation. Then no discernible one.
Impossible placebo, the mind’s eye
solid as chance, centred as awareness.
Suspended by left and right, top and bottom,
scaled between black and white,
right and wrong, poles are meaningless alone.
Empathy’s encircling warmth chills. I click:
a string of 0s and 1s blooms a two year old girl,
a father’s face caught in one moment,
mine quickly entangled, a dusty war zone,
a cart of heaped torsos and limbs
and the girl in mid-air, tossed to join them,
unabandoned by her father’s arm reaching out forever.
His fingers grasp mine across an ocean of noise
and seal the uselessness of my empathy.
My courage fails.
Opposition has me. I am tugged in two directions
going nowhere. Then this squeaks out
and I am miles from content.
I want to be more than the sum of this.