[1088] The Two Friends

Guest poem sent in by Salima Virani <svirani@>

The last word this one spoke
was my name. The last word
that one spoke
was my name.

My two friends
had never met. But when they said
that last word
they spoke to each other.

I am proud to have given them a language
of one word. A narrow space
in which, without knowing it,
they met each other at last.

 	-- Norman MacCaig

I love the simplicity of narration in this poem. I also like it because I
can relate to it on a very personal level.  Some of my closest friendships
were made during my time in Bombay and, although each one was special, often
many of my friends had little or no knowledge about each other.

Now, over a decade later, I have lost contact with many of them.  Yet, many
of these people have had their paths cross and my name was mentioned and a
connection was instantly made.  They now share with each other the
friendship that I once shared with them individually.  The talks over
coffee, the walks in the park.. :)

And I feel proud too...that I was instrumental in some way, to bring them
together.  In their friendships...my own friendship has been kept alive,
nurtured and sustained.

Salima

***

[Bio on MacCaig]

Norman MacCaig (1910-1996) was one of the major Scottish poets of the
twentieth century. He's remembered with great affection not only by the
modern generation of Scottish writers whom he helped to develop, but by
thousands of people who encountered him in school, and for whom he was the
first poet they'd seen who could write in an unpretentious way about
ordinary things and make them astonishing.

Link for more poems by MacCaig:
http://www.jacobite.org.uk/maccaig/