Contact

CONTACT

A Roman amphitheatre surrounds
the watery prison. Ignoring the crowds
of awed children and frazzled parents,
Orcan lions pace, waiting for the
next show, the next hoop, the next
obeisance.

I press my hands against the
glass of their prison and send my mind
out in search of another’s. For long
minutes I wait, casting my plea into the
water. Can you hear me? Can you feel me?
(Am I here?)

At last, one of the giants leaves his futile
circling and faces me. He hangs motionless
for a moment and then inclines his head
in a deliberate nod.

A nearby child cries out,
“Look, Mommy, he must know her!”
Not even the knowledge
that the nod was not a greeting
but a warning against my intrusion
into their world, can cloud my happiness
at the contact. He heard me. They have heard me.
I am here.