Invisible Fibers Between Beings

by Shaun Terry


The hide blends in
with his oil-covered,
trench-laden skin,
sliding about delicate, sinewy ankles
and sturdy, dirt-pocked feet.

His voice resonates,
is heard like a solid object,
but softness surrounds the echoes
of his cries.
His mind is empty.
His eyes and ears point out
to perceive,
but in no distinct direction.

They trust him.
They know the sound of his voice
and feel its safety and softness.

Long ago,
he learned to watch and listen.
Now, when he moves,
his limbs are swift and efficacious.
He doesn’t waste energy
and he never hesitates.

His clothes are spartan,
his smile is honest and understated.
He transmits warm energy
in a way that someone
who’s learned to be strong
the same way that graceful reeds
in the coastal wind
sway and react with wisdom.
The light and stillness in his heart
follow his protection
of those closest to him.
He has seen inside himself
and knows to cherish
the wind that sings to him.