i was invited to the table.
i don’t know i belong there.
i spend my time listening -
unsure what to contribute
to the process of consensus.
i sit in silence, waiting
for complexity to work itself out;
for simplicity to assert itself.
when i do speak i am welcomed.
i still feel like an intruder,
speaking of things i do not know -
trying to learn the language.
is this how it feels
on the inside looking in?
we are strangers to each other -
negotiating a thousand lost stories,
bringing them out one by one.
i’m not sure that’s sharing.
