The Balance
(Written at the Fir Acres Workshop for Writing and Thinking at Lewis and Clark College, Portland, Oregon)
As I sit, I can't help but attempt to block out the common city sounds and discover the beautiful music that exists in this place underneath. My brain, which always seems glad to be a sieve at other times, trys to filter away the hum of an engine as a car rushes by, or a piercing siren coming from the distance which is most certianly less beautiful than the mythilogical creature that shares its name.
Finally, the other sounds resurface. A breeze blows; I feel the cold, but more importantly become aware of it as the leaves rustle together, whispering age-old secrets that we will never know. There is a crackling about this place as people stride by, a cracking that makes every person seem to walk, or even to wander aimlessly, with purpose.
But still the hated city sounds flow throughout this place, and I am forced to acknowldge that they have a purpose here as well. They are just as much at home here as the birds, the trees, the people. They deserve to be here as well, just as we all wish to be.