He is young
With a shaved bald head
And, I suspect, a slight accent
He is in my group and shares that he has come here to find his own voice
For in listening to the louder voices of others
He finds himself in a life where he is “deeply unhappy”
He is seated next to me
And those words make me want to hug him.
On break-silence day I tell him with a laugh that I have coveted the granola bars in his cubby.
He hands me one but I am gloved for dishwashing and cannot accept
He asks (in his slight accent) which cubby is mine and he puts it in there
Generosity and kindness
His own voice will be enough.