Generosity

Free Verse

You know the friend,
The one who tilts her face toward yours
To better hear each word
As your story spills out between the two of you.

No averted gaze, no distracting comment,
Although, god knows, she’s heard
Versions of it several times before.
“Yes, yes,” she says, and recollects some past detail.

That gaze intent and never wavering,
Focused on your laugh, your tears, your arms raised up in exasperation.
She joins with you to witness where you are now,
Here, even as you fumble for what might come next.

She hangs onto your words as if, as if,
Inside your innermost being
A golden fig lies hidden in the leafy branches of your telling
Waiting to be picked and shared.

Listening as if she believes the fruit is there, full-flavored.
Listening so attentively that you begin to believe, too,
That the branch holds not just one
But a cluster of revelations, nourishing and juicy.

Turns out, she is with you for the long haul, as listener, as friend.
Even after death — the dark curls and sparkling eyes now gone —
Her spirited belief — that your stories matter — remains.
“Yes, keep on telling,” you hear her say. And you feel her leaning in.