Expecting to see the child in the man,
I was stopped by his silence.
His eyes gave nothing away.
There is a celebration in the
Ten faces behind him.
He does not give himself away.
What dominates his thinking?
I am reminded of a tree
Whose naked winter calm
In the motionless air
Mocks our need for expression,
And creates a sense of permanence, without purpose.
Our protagonist, though accepted by the celebrants,
Could be placed in another setting,
Perhaps one less incongruous?
No threat or dominance
Bars his placement in the photo.
Neither hands nor lips speak of disappointment.
I am unsettled by his quiet.
He has, I think, assumed this aspect before,
Incredibly, exquisitely, neutral.
What might he be protecting?
Or am I rushing to fill the void?
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