A Citizen

I wanted to be seen. But who would see me? I couldn’t think of the name for anything but a flower. The government makes coins that size and shape so your hand can feel safe holding them. The pictures stamped remind us where we are, or how the landscape we live in connects itself, through common value, to a different place. On this one, a spinnaker sails past a bridge. On that, a diamond shines like a child’s stilled top over a bird, as if the diamond made the natural world — bird, forest, state flower, sheaf of healthy corn, shining water — out of proportion in relation to itself. I love this. My own state has a bear, so small and out of proportion to me that my life- line can cross behind it. At last I do not fear that but feel proud the animal can sit in my palm so silently until I spend it. And if I lose it, then it becomes even more quiet. Most still just have an eagle, so it is as if 30 eagles were passed over from one hand to another when the one charged with arranging things for his Savior’s dinner arranged his Savior’s death. Heavier the yoke of heat in solitude. A walk uphill does not feel manageable. Who will see me?