If I could come to you
as a whisper more subtle than any—
You'd swear it were inside
your head.
Would that still blast
you? If I were
very, very careful to speak no different
than a gentle breeze might speak, or trickling
water—
What Trojan horse must I approach
you in?
Impregnable wall I must first
overcome—
No longer to resist me, once
I got in,
once this whisper would unexpectedly
sound familiar,
we could take delight in the words
exchanged,
examining them between fingers,
without threat.
And what message
might I bring for you?
What difficult little door
might I open for you?
Or lend a hand—
Brick by brick, with subtle
art,
we could bring down the wall—
Imagine what world that would
be!
My voice—how many voices—
you might then in the flesh accept.
But there is more—
My voice is but a vessel for
what first whispered to me.
1990