She is beautiful, too beautiful to be borne. She moves in a
space of her own devising. No one can hold her.
Her arms extended, embracing something only she can see. Her
eyes closed, her face upturned, transfigured -
Light shines on her, and she reflects it. She is exquisite.
I hear you, standing beside me, whispering her name. You
think I can’t hear. Your hand is taut inside mine. I wonder
whose hand you are holding in your mind.
Now she spins and twirls, like a leaf in autumn suddenly set
free. Her momentum carries her towards us. She is perfectly
balanced, unlikely to fall, although she spins so fast.
I can see the fragility of her bones. Your breath changes
rhythm, becomes prolonged. You are inhaling hte exquisite
picture before you. Your hand slips away from mine.
I feel isolated, set adrift in the sea. I know that I am out
of my depth here, when your mind is focussed on her, and her
mind is soaring faster and farther than our imaginings, and I
am suspended in the gap between. My thoughs scatter and
regather, and I pretend that I am here with you.
I feel bitterly the absence of touch between us.
She has stopped spinning, and has raised her arms highter.
She is feeling the sun, letting it kiss her like a lover.
Somehow, she seems to be naked before us, though she remains
clothed. I feel dirty watching her.
Your eyes have not wavered. I am tempted to reach for your
hand, but I cannot. Your walls are up. You could easily
reject me.
How many times have I run to you, and bruised myself against
those walls? How many times have I pounded them furiously
with my fists, until they tore the skin from my hands? How
many times have you sat inside, listening to my rasping breath
and bitter weeping, and made no move to comfort me?
Beloved. What a beautiful word.
Now my eyes close, like her eyes. I keep my arms carefully at
my side, and my face seeks shadow, not sun. I sway slowly frm
side to side, my agony making me restless, as a caged animal.
I cannot understand why she is free, and I am bound miserably
to you.
I see your lips moving, though you make no sound. If I could
touch you to hurt you, I would do so now.
She falls to her knees, then bows gracefully to the grownd, so
that her body sinks into the earth. Like a child, she curls
up, as though the tall thick grass were a womb in which she
lay. Her hand gently caresses it. The rest of her is still.
Your lips are parted. Your skin is pale. Your soul is flying
towards her, curling itself against the lines of her body,
feeling her caress, warming itself in the childlike pleasure
of her presence. Your soul is with her just as my soul is
with you, burning from the heat your body radiates.
She is as still as a gazelle, having danced and leapt away
from the hunt, now waiting in fear for it to catch up. You
think that her tears are tears of joy. But I know better, for
I have the knowledge of weeping.
My soul cries out to you, “See, I am spinning too! I am
twirling, my arms extended, my face upturned and basking in
the sun!” Why do you bind me?
My breath changes, becomes harsher as the weithg in my chest
tries to do the work of my heart. How I would weep and cry
out, if only you would permit me! I grieve that there must be
such secrets between us.
Now she stands, and starts to run away from us - far away.
You are marvelling at the grace of her flight, but I am
watching the trail of fear she leaves behind.
You and I, bound together in tearless despair. I doubt the
possibility that we could turn to each other. The fragile
bond of touch was broken long ago, and can never be restored.
Like a kiss, it is set free, and flies on the wind towards the
unknown destination of wishes and yesterdays. No one speaks
there of answers. It is only what has been.
We walk side by side, charting the path of the never again
which has become too familiar.
Our souls spin and twirl towards the earth before us.
