Society, Like Nature, Is One Body, Really.

Borrow A Child And Get On Welfare. Borrow A Child And Stay In The House All Day With The Child, Or Go To The Public Park With The Child, And Take The Child To The Welfare Office And Cry And Say Your Man Left You And Be Humble And Wear Your Dress And Your Smile, And Don't Talk Back.

To Make Love Is To Become Like This Infant Again. We Grope With Our Mouths Toward The Body Of Another Being, Whom We Trust, Who Takes Us In Her Arms. We Rock Together With This Loved One. We Move Beyond Speech. Our Bodies Move Past All The Controls We Have Learned. We Cry Out In Ecstasy, In Feeling. We Are Back In A Natural World Before Culture Tried To Erase Our Experience Of Nature. In This World, To Touch Another Is To Express Love; There Is No Idea Apart From Feeling, And No Feeling Which Does Not Ring Through Our Bodies And Our Souls At Once.

Language Is Filled With Words For Deprivation Images So Familiar It Is Hard To Crack Language Open Into That Other Country The Country Of Being.

Telling A Story Of Illness, One Pulls A Thread Through A Narrow Opening Flanked On One Side By Shame And The Other By Trivia.

Each Life Reverberates In Every Other Life. Whether Or Not We Acknowledge It, We Are Connected, Woven Together In Our Needs And Desires, Rich And Poor, Men And Women Alike.