Sunday, May 22, 2006
I woke up this morning with his arms draped around me. He snored lightly in his slumber, his mouth parted ever so slightly. With my fingertips, I traced the curvature of his face, the fullness of his lips, the corners of his mouth, those deep set eyes that reminded me of stars. He represents all things beautiful to me when all I feel is sorrow and uncertainty. I was comforted by the warmth of his body and the steady sound of his breathing beside me, and I knew I did not deserve it.
With him I experience something that I’ve never felt before, but I cannot identify that mystifying quality about him. All I know is that he has captivated me, and in doing so, ensnared me with his love. At times, I feel overcome with emotion, filled to the brink of passion and romance; other times, it feels one-sided, a sensation which confuses and unnerves me.
I feel words building up inside, but I cannot loose them yet. Something holds me back—guilt, shame, fear—I cannot know. There is something binding about the emotions that I feel, yet we still have not resigned ourselves to titles. If he asked me to be his, I could not refuse him, but there is still a part of me which mourns. I cannot speak with him about it; it is not my way to vocalize my heart’s suffering, but I know he understands, he being married once before. He holds me when I tremble in my sleep, kisses my fears away and lets me rest easy in the branches of his arms.
I’m quickly losing control, I can feel it when I am alone, and it frightens me. I think I care for him too deeply. My heart constricts.
You said you loved me.
Those words, oh, how I longed
To say them too,
But uncertainty holds my tongue.
What do I know of romantic love?
An illusion meant to keep us fools
Safe and warm in our beds, our mind’s most
Devious deception.
How can I trust your words?
How much I want to,
How much I do.
You said you loved me in the shadows.
I felt your heart beat hard against mine,
And I wanted to say it too.
Instead I say ‘Thank You,’
For I have no other words.
But know this.
If nothing else in this world is true,
If nothing else survives the test of love
And time, this much is all I know.
I care for you—
Truly, madly, deeply.
Monday, May 23, 2006
Something strange inside me speaks, an unsettling voice which sickens me. Something is not right; I can feel it in my chest, that same uncertainty that made me doubt myself. He speaks to me no more—poets’ dialogue at its end. I hear not its articulations nor its inmost contemplations. A piece of land is now closed off to me, but for what motive I know not. What once was open and free to roam is now obscured from view, and I can’t help but believe that what once was needed has been satisfied. Oh, it bodes ill, my heart! What have I done?
I sought an explanation, and again I found “Love” by Khalil Gibran.
“Then said Almitra: Speak to us of Love. And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said: When love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you, yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you, believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste to the garden. For even as love crowns you, so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth, so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth. Like sheaves of corn, he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you of your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; and then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast. All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.
*But if in your fear if you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.*
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself. Love possesses not nor would it be possessed; for love is sufficient unto love. When you love you should not say, “God is in my heart,” but rather “I am in the heart of God.” And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course. Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and have must needs have desires, let these be your desires: to melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; and to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; to rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy; to return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.”
When I read this passage, I know not whether I have the courage to do as he instructs. I know both faces of Love, like a friend and formidable foe, and I shudder in its silhouette, my constant companion. I am falling too hard, I can’t stop myself—I can’t go back, I can’t go forward, nor sidestep left or right—I’ll willingly feed myself to the wolves and be destroyed, all for wont of loving you.
The terror is so real, and so near to me now. I’m so afraid of falling in love again, and regardless of my trepidation, I cannot help myself. I’ve become so needy in so short a time; I’ve never felt this way before, and I hate my own weakness. I’ve never needed anyone before, never needed constant reassurance of one person’s affection. I may have transferred all my intentions to my dark-haired lover, in an unconscious effort to replace what I have lost. I feel as though I passed over a period of mourning for my Heart—maybe due to the fact that I had weeks before the separation to torment myself with guilt, or maybe it’s because I gave all my hopes and dreams to someone else. Regardless of reason or motive, I am where I am now and there is no turning back for me.
There are emotions inside me that are growing, some of which I never knew existed. This is all so new to me, and the uncertainty of it all frightens me to tears. I know he is frustrated with me—by his words, his actions, his body language—all express his utter confusion. It hurts me when he says I am cold to him, when all I’m trying to do is protect myself.
He misunderstands my fear, my inner conflict, and I do not possess the courage to correct him. I’m not as strong a person when it comes to matters of the heart. I was hurt too badly, too young, and now I’m not strong enough to love all on my own. I am not as brave a soul as he, this I’ve always known.
What will happen now, now that you have seen me for what I really am? So far from first impressions and expectations, you admitted that you saw me differently now. You said you couldn’t understand my fears. Someday I know you will tire of trying; for certain, one day you will give up. There is no permanence in love, and yet still I cling to hope.
Promise me you won’t hurt me, and I will be yours.
Promise me you won’t discover and abandon me,
Promise you won’t break this fragile heart of mine.
Promise that you’ll need me, and I’ll never doubt again.
Promise that you love me, and I’ll be free to love you too.
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