Song Of The Twirling Accountants

I’m running a training class on stress management
and one supervisor stands before all her peers
and explains that the people in her department — Financial Accounting —
handle stress by twirling twice before delivering bad news to each other.
"You can’t help but laugh when you see it," she says shyly,
and the room breaks up, but not unkindly;

and in their laughter
I hear a door opening,
I feel the warmth and see the light
as it leaks in
from the daffiness that’s blazing
somewhere outside this room.

Two days later I am speaking with another manager
and he tells me
manages his stress
by running.

He runs ten miles daily — morning and night —
runs more miles during the week than on weekends —
runs whenever he can get time away from the office —
runs and runs —
can’t get enough time on the road, he says.

There are pictures of his family on his desk,
the only personal items in his office.

He shrugs it off, says only,
"Keeps me going,"
when I comment
on the beauty of his daughter’s eyes,

but I can almost see what he must see:
a flat road through green fields,
a blue house shining ahead,
and children running to meet him.

I discover, over time,
a vice president
who’s actively involved with Amnesty International,
a director
who works at a battered women’s shelter,
and a cello playing auditor.
The god of death metal guitar rules the mailroom,
there’s a rumor that there’s a slam poet
in the training department,
and there’s even a credit manager
who hangs herown paintings
made of multi-colored dryer lint
in her office
just to see the faces
of the senior staff
when they realize what it is
they are admiring.

Four PM on a Tuesday,
and I push my chair
back from my desk.

The light
from the window I can almost see from my cubicle
is cathedral light.
I shut down the computer and close my eyes,
and the voices of workers around me
ring like hymns.
If your God is found solely
in the details of Scripture,
or in the vaults of heaven, mine
is entirely revealed within these people,
and the work they do
pays for all their prayers.
Who among us
dares to say
what is and is not
holy work?