Loose Like Silk

The other night at dinner

Eileen tells us that her great

aunt would play piano for silent

movies. Something in this won’t

let me go. Perhaps it’s the image

of someone playing music in the

dark while we watch others like

us meet life in silence. It makes

me think of a caveman drumming

a stone with a stick while his brother

draws his bow but fails to shoot be-

cause he loses himself in the bison

grazing. Perhaps the playing of

images in the dark and the play-

ing of music while we watch is all

to keep us from shooting. I think

the brother who loses himself and

Eileen’s aunt playing Brahms in the

dark are of the same tribe. Last night

we went next door for a glass of wine

with Stacy and Anders and their blind

collie Kai broke my heart open a little

further. He noses gently about every-

thing and watching him find his way

about the yard in the late sun feels

like you and me when we put down

our masks. Only when we rush do

we bump and break things. Kai’s

soft, wide eyes search in their dark-

ness for the shelf of late light and

finding something, he rests his head

in the open air, in the warm hand

of eternity, feeling safe in a light

he can’t see.