Compassion doesn’t make appointments

Why did I cry during the teleconference?
I opened my mouth and 
Knew
The tears would come

As you spoke about the death of your father
I see myself on the screen in
What listening looks like:
Shiny desperation mixed with refusal

I have a primordial itch
The deep "next"
Reaching out and away from myself 
 To anything else

This is not suffering

"It's good, basically good. That's my life: the simple things" 
The waves of pain wash you
As you tread gracefully
Accepting the world as it is

On my turn to talk
Having been touched
I can feel myself again
Your pain is all pain

My heart, speaking for me, is
Red-faced and her voice wobbly with emotion
I am a contortion of grace 
That will not be silenced

Remembering to return to 
The bed of fear 
(Free-falling as it does)
I do not hold on

This is surrender