A divorce mediator, usually a lawyer or therapist, asks incisive questions,
cuts through anger and hurt, and facilitates rational decision - making.
The reason for this quest is told
through a series of
cut scenes whose drama won't be spoiled here, but it's safe to say that
anger and rage are his driving forces.
There are those who say the sound my country makes at night, the sound I hear when flying, the sound my nation exhales as it sleeps, is the sound of prayer, the sound of Jesus Christ arising from the basalt in the Rockies, splitting hearts of granite as he shakes off chains of time and is reborn, and there are those who claim the sound my nation makes at night is the metallic hiss of money in the forge or the sound of slavery's jism misspent in
anger and assimilation, or that the sound my nation makes is the sizzle of cosmetic simulation, the sound the
cutting edge of surgical removal makes, the sound of History slipping into coma, cosmic silence, almost total,
through which, in my dream of flying, I perceive a hopeful distant note — the sound my country makes — a note so confirming and annunciatory that it seems to bend into itself, bend into its own impending future like an announcing angel comin» round the mountain, bend the way a shadow bends, conforming to the curvature of Earth, wailing gently
through the night.
It so happened that we were able to
cut through a boatload of confusion, fear,
anger and pain in only 4 sessions.