357 and 358 (a double sonnet)

A testimony meeting I stood by

wherein the bishop said to share a hymn.

A hymn that had, our own hearts, entered in,

upon which, when in need, we could rely.

A hundred men and women there were, there,

and so a hundred stories were, there, shared.

A hundred stories, from the heart, were bared,

save one—mine—for I would not, could not dare.

They all approached the podium, exposed,

and made known what was hid within their heart:

the talents that life deigned to them impart,

but I held my own talent close, and closed;

because I did not want to know that we

could understand each other equally.~

Aloof I am, tho not, I see, for pride,

‘tis fear that makes me stand aside—apart.

The fear that I would crumble ‘round the heart

that could stand equally beside my side.

For I have known the pride that makes estranged,

and had it, too. How foolish it can be.

A foolish man it’s made, and makes, of me.

But fear’s aloofness is strangely arranged.

It is no fear like any other kind.

The fear of being known. How odd to say.

But it could not be said another way.

To let another soul, our soul, so find.

But it must be, if men like me will see

that man can love without a registry.