Mineral Man
I knock gently and turn the door handle
as I enter his snug little house.
He adjusts to his chair as usual
settling in with the help
of strong female hands.
We nestle the microphone close by
his mouth so his limited breath
can be amplified by the attached speaker.
He smiles with his familiar mixture
of mischief and kindness.
Though his skeletal limbs
are shriveled and useless to him,
Strangely he does not seem
a prisoner in his unresponsive body.
I find that I am the prisoner
of my own compassion and grief.
He simply lives each moment as it comes,
sometimes patient, sometimes fierce.
We begin our examination
of his crystals and rocks,
cataloging, descriptions so beautiful
and other worldly that I am
often at a loss for words.
He knows all the minerals in each specimen,
All the colors of rainbow captured for eternity
polished to a high luster, sometimes by men,
sometimes by the titanic forces of nature.
He sips at the air between sentences
as if it were delicious spring water
quenching a demanding thirst,
so crucial for his survival.
He shares another description
of yet another specimen:
phantoms and rutiles,
inclusions and fractures.
I hold them up for him to see
turning them slowly, his now unresponsive
hands once sought out these
mineral mysteries with dexterous fingers.
Brazil and Arkansas
Mexico and Idaho
Vietnam, Madagascar
Russia and Oregon.
He takes me around the world
and then I help him pee into that
plastic urinal he tolerates
with such stoic dignity.
How can I tell this beautiful,
courageous soul how much
I have come to love him
and learn from him
in these few precious months
that I have had with him.
How can I possibly be worthy
of the precious moments
he shares with me.
Rose colored quartz,
water bubbles trapped
in Amethyst palaces.
Exquisite tourmaline,
triceratops skull fossil fragment,
a florite forest too gorgeous
for an ordinary man like me.
My hours with him come to an end
and I must go off into the world
full of motion and drama.
Leaving this beautiful soul,
this Mineral Man imbued with
the deep wisdom of the Ancient Fungi
filling his cells, radiating from
his gracious heart.
In this moment of temporary parting
I feel the pain of unspeakable loss.
I wonder if I deserve to bear the weight
of his kindness and generosity.
Scott DuRoff 5/2014
I knock gently and turn the door handle
as I enter his snug little house.
He adjusts to his chair as usual
settling in with the help
of strong female hands.
We nestle the microphone close by
his mouth so his limited breath
can be amplified by the attached speaker.
He smiles with his familiar mixture
of mischief and kindness.
Though his skeletal limbs
are shriveled and useless to him,
Strangely he does not seem
a prisoner in his unresponsive body.
I find that I am the prisoner
of my own compassion and grief.
He simply lives each moment as it comes,
sometimes patient, sometimes fierce.
We begin our examination
of his crystals and rocks,
cataloging, descriptions so beautiful
and other worldly that I am
often at a loss for words.
He knows all the minerals in each specimen,
All the colors of rainbow captured for eternity
polished to a high luster, sometimes by men,
sometimes by the titanic forces of nature.
He sips at the air between sentences
as if it were delicious spring water
quenching a demanding thirst,
so crucial for his survival.
He shares another description
of yet another specimen:
phantoms and rutiles,
inclusions and fractures.
I hold them up for him to see
turning them slowly, his now unresponsive
hands once sought out these
mineral mysteries with dexterous fingers.
Brazil and Arkansas
Mexico and Idaho
Vietnam, Madagascar
Russia and Oregon.
He takes me around the world
and then I help him pee into that
plastic urinal he tolerates
with such stoic dignity.
How can I tell this beautiful,
courageous soul how much
I have come to love him
and learn from him
in these few precious months
that I have had with him.
How can I possibly be worthy
of the precious moments
he shares with me.
Rose colored quartz,
water bubbles trapped
in Amethyst palaces.
Exquisite tourmaline,
triceratops skull fossil fragment,
a florite forest too gorgeous
for an ordinary man like me.
My hours with him come to an end
and I must go off into the world
full of motion and drama.
Leaving this beautiful soul,
this Mineral Man imbued with
the deep wisdom of the Ancient Fungi
filling his cells, radiating from
his gracious heart.
In this moment of temporary parting
I feel the pain of unspeakable loss.
I wonder if I deserve to bear the weight
of his kindness and generosity.
Scott DuRoff 5/2014
