for Seamus Heaney
As in war, we are comrades and enemies all at once.
We intercept another’s plea for help, and understand
instinctively the pain and the struggle to escape.
Sometimes, seeing between the coded lines
we comprehend a deeper meaning within
the general message for the troops. Sometimes
being alerted to a hidden mine, we face
the need to uncover it and blow it sky-high
for we are a curious lot, never knowing
when to leave well enough alone.
At special times, we reach out across no-man’s land,
openly exchanging tales, instead of quietly hinting
at the fact that we all feel the same:
we all know that we must first understand
why we send out our distress signals at all
before we can describe the surrounding chaos…
We each see everything in a slightly different way,
and send verses back and forth to clarify
the importance of this particluar well-shaft, or hold
heated discussions on the various ways to dig.
And sometimes, you anticipate my thoughts, and I
wonder whether we are not part of a larger plan,
or if it could not be that telepathy really does exist.
Until we find out, I will try not to wound you.