One Sigh, One Step

            The first step seemed solid. You checked the footing before making the second, but something catches the edge as you lift. Glancing down, the thought is there hanging to your leg like a lost child. It takes a moment for the eyes to focus; clear the fog long enough for the idea to take hold.

            Turning towards the street, you wave at the car already gone from sight. The emptiness glares back as reality sinks in: He’s gone. One sigh, one step and you’re in the door, but tied to the hem are the memories and the words; the ones you didn’t have time to let slip. They nag in whispers, but your heart swats at them watching each scatter down the hall.

            Relief sets in, allowing for the next step; but the buzzing cloud reforms. Somehow it grew in the dispersal, choking every breath as your lungs fight against the drowning. Assaulted by images, your mind staggers towards the wall; reaching out to stop the spinning, but the railing gives way causing you to tumble.

            Still, the tears won’t come. The strength of will that pushed you forward keeps a tight hold; forcing the next step, because it has to. Even as sorrow washes, you are unable to release the emotion. Although his face is square in the eye and his voice lingers in the ear, you manage to crawl under the covers with the hope that sleep will bring relief; but the cold descends. You reach over to tuck under his arm only to find the emptiness glaring once more.

            One sigh, one step; because moving forward seems to be the only way to keep going. Never stopping to realize that if you wait a moment, the car will drive past for one more wave, the phone will ring to let the words slip, and his arms will be there ready to catch you before the fall.

* * * *

             I never told…it took everything ounce of my strength to leave. When we’re not together a piece of my heart is missing. Loving you has been the hardest and easiest thing I’ve ever done, but I wouldn’t trade a single moment for anything in the world. I love you now…I’ll love you always.

A Glimpse of Perspective

            Today was a time to search for the flutter.  I let the ringing in my ear lead the way back to connection. The message isn’t always clear, but it’s the feeling that matters.  It’s my way of catching a glimpse of perspective.

            Today was a time to search the sky.  I gazed at the clouds looking for that hint of wing-tipped salvation, but they sat peacefully in powered perfection.   So I let the feeling, they passed on the breeze, wash across my chest to saturate; to rejuvenate the dimmed light fighting to hold on.

            Today was a time to search for Angel’s whispers.  I turned to the water, watching it roll down a concrete river.  It carried the last remnants of darkness that was clouding my vision down swiftly moving currents.  I released a sigh, allowing the emotional rollercoaster I’ve been on the last few days to slow to a halt.

            Today was a time to be thankful for a solid hold on the path before me.  Even when the ground is rocky and the weeds pull, my feet stay firm.  I know my purpose in life, the places that bring enlightenment, and how to keep my eye on perspective.  I used that perspective today to reconnect to the love and hope that has blessed my life; and to marvel at the hearts ability to grow.

            Today…was good day to let life find its way back into my heart.

…because life is persistent

You think it’s an illusion; that the glimmered mirage reflected in watery eyes doesn’t dip past the surface, but the rocks you skip aren’t meant to sink.  They skim in rippled jumps each barely tapping the water as it reaches for the other shore. Exhausted from the journey, they succumb to the pull and sink. Before you watch them disappear beneath the waves, another rock is hand ready and held tight. 

            The breeze carries a message through a flowing curtain of willows. They weep for a world-weary heart hardened by time and a touch of life. Desperate to catch your eye, the branches wave frantically, whipping just above your head. When the rustle grows, you glance in annoyance cursing the disruption. The branches, drained from the effort, release the call to let it settle back along the wind.  But life is persistent; it turns to the nightingale, hoping that the sun-brushed melody melts past the iced prison walls surrounding your heart.

            There he sings, on the water’s edge, fighting past cellophane wings to catch your ear.  His little heart beats a foreign rhythm of love.  The song drifts past an unwilling soul wrapped comfortably in its loneliness.  As he prepares to expend his final breath, you turn to throw another stone and stir the water with a splash.  Off he flies in search of new ears to capture.  If you were to pause, the absence would be glaring, but the urge to continue skipping overwhelms the senses. So you throw another stone, hoping this one will make it to the other side.

The frustration builds as each one falls faster beneath the deep cerulean waters than the last.  Realization has yet to take hold, but life is persistent. It compels the lazy clouds to gather. As the sky woven blanket begins to cry, you feel the first drop roll across your cheek. You brush it away without a thought. The first drip safely in hand, you return to task; scowling at the heavens, you warn them in brief sharp glances.

A laugh rumbles across the hills. It grows to a deafening echo in your ears.  Undeterred, the sky opens; in typed drips on the water’s surface, it faithfully sends the message of love. As it soaks, you feel the warmth dip past the skin. Your face turns skyward letting each word roll down rose touched cheeks. It continues to flow as your hands release the stones into the moss covered soil below; finally the words pool right below the neck, through brittled walls, into that space emptied by loneliness.

…because life is persistent and all it needs is time.

The Fall

It’s a thought hanging on the edge, your first inclination is to reach out and grab it before the fall. The bright colors and sparkles are enough to compel a heart to action, but what if the thought isn’t for you. A trick of the eye, the light can rearrange the image to fit. And a soul desperate for the comfort of inspiration will latch.

As it begins to pull you, vision clears to authenticity. The edges solidify; that’s when you realize the passing glance wasn’t yours. The smile, a play on the strings, captured the wrong soul. Two pieces push and press finding a way to fit, discovering in the frustration, the ends are off. The heartache is inevitable. Where the glimpse of love once stood, the truth of lust shines with such a glare it leaves you wondering how the mistake was made.

The almost and what could have been cross your lips in sighs. You ponder the purpose of moments woven with self-destruction, laying the fault in fate. Some loves have no destiny, the lies roll so easily from souls seeking survival. And there is a whisper of truth in self-soothing mantras.

Wisdom may not sit for any length, but love isn’t tainted with conventions of reality. It floats on the cliff waiting for the next longing. Knowing the soul’s desire to be tethered, its unparalleled patience is tipped with just enough whimsy to enrapture the mind past caution. You may not feel the poke, but the next time you see the sparkle about to tumble, take a moment to consider the fall.

Together

            It almost seems as if the world shifted when I wasn’t paying attention, but that has never been my strength. I often miss the changes in the tide. That’s when the waves start pulling the sand from under my feet; causing me to sink past the point of balance. I flounder, looking around for something to stop the fall, but the scenery is barren. So I scan the beach for another soul to extend a hand, finding that I am alone. I could blame this unusual tide on the moon, but experience has shown that the truth typically lies right below the surface; in the depths of water I often avoid, because the darker waters hold mysteries I’ve yet to comprehend.

When the universe speaks, my first inclination is to run. Today the tide came in throwing me back into the sand. Now I could have stood up, making a fast break for the hills, but when I looked back at the imprint there were two sets. This alone would have made me uncomfortable. However, I wasn’t quite prepared for what I saw next; a heart, perfectly formed in the drop, neatly placed between the prints.

                I’ve tried to write about this love many times. The urge to express it is bursting from every pore, but the words always leave me wanting. It doesn’t get much better when we speak. I find my heart dripping straight out of my chest into his eyes. Some invisible force sews my lips together. I resort to a look, a touch, a soft sigh that embodies the essence of the emotional rollercoaster my soul is on.

                With the ability to express such emotions removed, I turn to moments. You see, that is all we really have together; a day at the beach, when the horses grazed on winter dried grasses, hiding in his arms from the chilled ocean breeze; driving down a moonlit road listening to rosy tunes, finding solace in the click-clack of the train tracks; a night of love drunk bliss, watching foreign films and falling into soft kisses, hoping to God that time stops.

                If this were just a romanticized view of what we are together, I could disconnect my soul and write an epic anthology of love poetry. The fact is, the ease of this love sits outside of conflict. There is no jealousy, anger, finger pointing, questioning of motive or action, because none of these things exist between us. It’s simply a heart in the sand, surrounded by the imprint of two souls without expectation.

There are times when you have to live something. Not every experience lends itself to the page. I find more often than not the backstory, although interesting, isn’t given much weight by the reader. So I’ll leave out the how’s and why’s to relate what we are now. We are love, we are touch, we are talk, and we are that simple everyday something that everybody is looking for, and we are all this….together.

Cracks

Some cracks take much longer than a minute to heal. We try to skip past them, hoping that time fills the break. That’s when the weeds move in pushing the edges past the mind. As the crack expands, we gain momentum, but they grow so much faster than a heart can run.

These cracks started when youth was still fresh in my eyes. For all my skipping and whistling, I could not find a way to fill them. No amount of love can kill the weeds, but even at that tender age, I knew that love could fill the holes. Still, there were the weeds which grew beyond the confines of my soul.  

If you gaze long enough at my fingertips, you can see the scars left from years of pulling. See I decided several years ago to begin the journey of removal; to cleanse my soul of the poisoned plants infecting the cracks. It occurred to me that you can’t fill something until it’s empty. Seem like a simple concept? Perhaps, but most people don’t see the weeds; so they continue to attempt filling something that is already full.

It’s a journey of will. You’ll find that some things are very comfortable. Well fed by doubts and insecurities, kept warm by fleeting desires, they can grow beyond your control. Patience is the key; touched with a bit of understanding and the love of self. Of course, you must be willing to take a hard look at choices. My suggestion is to wear lenses that feather the edges, because not every choice we make is a good one; and then exercise a little forgiveness.

In the end, pain is the most difficult weed to remove. Here forgiveness is key. You must be able to forgive yourself for taking that left turn instead of the right; and then extend those arms to include the people who added to that pain. It didn’t occur to me, until recently, that people can be forgiven for most anything. It’s a matter of stepping back and taking a good look at what drives them to action. Sometimes we need to put ourselves in Their place to see the why’s.

After all this work I still find cracks, but the fact that I see the new ones is a step towards healing. Now, when the pain comes to fill them, I remove it quickly. There’s no point in letting something so empty, something simply intent on feeding off my energy, to consume me. In its place I add love. The love I have for the starlit souls in my life fills the breaks past flowing. For that, I am forever grateful.

White Knights & Picket Fences

                The ending is supposed to be happy. At least, that’s the way the fairytales say; though I’ve never been one to read the entire book. Maybe I missed something in the skimming. I should have taken a second look, but the details just didn’t seem important at the time. I think back to the white knights and picket fences wondering why it became the standard. Of course, it’s easy for the sparkle to capture your imagination when youth still has you tightly spun.

                I could say that I’m wiser now, but there’s no point holding onto such lies. Especially when the brights are still on. The truth blinds past the glittered dresses and fairy godmothers now. My time of living in youthful fantasies ended when the lights dimmed. Two failed marriages revealed the kinked metal and crooked slats; a dreamed perfection that’s quickly gathering dust on my shelves.

                It’s time to let the dust settle across the pages. Step back from the obsessive need to keep the shelves clear and simply breathe. Not something I manage with any skill, but I wasn’t given the manual; so I’ll stumble on the frays and find a way to move forward, because there’s no point in going back. The charred bridge lies at the bottom of a river I will not cross again and I’m done mourning the loss of those dreams.

                Lessons learned, we glance back at the good with smiles and let the bad fade past memory. It’s time to pull up the straps, putting one foot down, because that’s the only way to get through the day to day. In place of progress, movement brings us toward the green of spring with some hope that it is fashioned for happiness. And the search for hope, happiness, and new love is always worth the next step.