This morning, when it was early, and the sun was shy, and the grass was still cold and dewy, I sat outside near the hummingbird feeder. I sipped my tea, tinged a dark apricot color, in big gulps. And I thought about which moments would flash in my eyes before I died.
You were in almost all of them, my love.
Us, journeying into the wild ridges of the blue mountains, to plains that were sweet and soaked with sun, and looked almost like Africa.
Us, running, hands clasped, jumping into the ocean together, our feet scraping on shells as we plunged into icy, blue waters with huge smiles planted on our faces, laughter funneling joyously from our mouths.
The first time we kissed, the way the moon felt like it was blessing us; the way you picked me a pink flower that I tucked behind my ear, and still have pressed in a book, to this day.
You are in some of the most epic moments of my life.
You are in my death reel.
The moments that cut into me so deeply, not because they were painful, but because there beauty was so intense that they sliced past the pain.
They sliced past all my pre-conceived limitations and fears and even the masks that dictated to me for so many years who I should be.
It makes me weep.
What we have shared together. The nakedness, the purity, the intensity.
I hold these memories close, I fan them out like a bouquet of wildflowers and take in the nectar of their sweet, perfume scent. It soothes me, like I am in a canoe, rocking slowly, face to face with the comfort of your golden-reddish beard and the salty breath of the ocean breeze.
I am in awe of what we have created together.
And I don’t mean to sugarcoat--we sure created some shit too, we hurt each other, things got toxic for a bit--but it’s nothing compared to the otherworldly wonder that we created together.
It simply knocks the wind out of me in the sweetest way, hot like a realization encoded in the aha’s of what this really means---
That you would flash before my mind in the seconds before my last breath. In my last minutes of this life, my mind would be dripping with memories of you.
In my eyes, before death took me into darkness and mystery and plunged me into all that awaits on the other side---
I would see you.
I would see me.
I would see all the ways we helped set each other free.
I would see all the joy and trust we created, simply because we were two souls willing to do whatever it takes.
Those epic moments stick out like the jagged ridges of the mountain in my mind.
Meet me there, in those juiciest, most amazing times we shared.
The sunset is pink and tinged with mystery.
Light fades, magic rises.
Our lips touch.
The fairies in the brush celebrate, as they light up the garden path that smells of gardenias, and hangs with the little pink paint brushes of mimosa trees at the height of their fullest bloom.
Our love is the kind that gets the attention of the world around us.
Our love is the kind of love that can heal pain.
It is the kind of love that can’t be written off or set aside. We can never say we didn’t care; that we didn’t try. We can never say that we didn’t reveal ourselves, that we let our feelings sit, unexpressed.
We dove in. We risked it all. And we continue to.
Ours is the kind of love that makes us feel alive again, when life felt like death, which it did, for so long, for the both of us.
You helped me wake up. To see what was possible, what was real, what I could create
And we soared together, when I thought my wings were permanently clipped.
We lived together, when you thought that you might die, because your Lyme disease felt like it was killing you, eating you, like the most corrosive acid, from the inside.
Our love is not ordinary.
It is divine.
It transcends, even our stubbornest egos and most piercing wounds and our deepest, darkest fears, the ones we never told anyone about before.
It is the love that kissed us both, during the darkest night
And brought us back to life.
It lit candle wick that just keeps shining.
It set daisies and buttercups on our faces and breathed hope into our weary bones.
The vapor of that first kiss still lingers on my lips
Like the heady perfume of lilacs
And the way you hand fits in mine
I will never forget--
Because you helped me wake up.
And forgetting isn’t my go-to anymore.
I am awake.
You are awake.
And yet, the dream only becomes more real.
It becomes more outlandish and lush and stupid and gorgeous and insane---it becomes sacred.
Our love becomes the portal to realms that buzz in firefly-like electricity, realms that burn hot with fire and glow green with secrets shimmying up from the earth, realms that are filled with fat, yellow snakes---realms that are just as real as this one.
Our love becomes the balm.
The balm that calms the places inside us that still sometimes ache.
For we helped each other create the salve for our own hearts. Herb by herb, plant by plant, our fingers plucked, we searched far and wide--and we found the sensuous concoction that heals the scabs, fractures, and sutures of our weary hearts.
We are that salve for each other, but not in the way you’d think.
We are that salve---
Because we showed each other
That we are both
Poison, too. Yes, we can both be toxic and poisonous. But poison, taken in small amounts, is medicine. It can cure. We both have the power to hurt and to heal, and we know not to take this lightly anymore.
I bow my head to you, wild man.
I bow my head as tears roll like rivers down my cheeks, as goosebumps coat my arms, like like tingling fingerpaints, I say--thank you.
There is nothing more inspiring than a man like you.
There is nothing more expansive than the way we meet, in utter sacredness.
There is nothing more real than the way we have fucked this up a thousand times, but we keep trying, for we know it is all worth it.
Smile, my love, let worry dissipate into the ground. Let the lush carpet of our Mother soak up every last worry, with the straw of her thick, golden roots.
Let us be free.
May our love pave the path to greatness. To freedom. To truth. To destiny.
May our love be a beacon of that drips of God.
May we leave pain behind and know what it is to be joyous and blossoming and well.
May our love funnel up from the earth and down from the billowing periwinkle skies.
May our love cradle us in darkness, and always bring us back to the altar of our Selves.
May our love create peace, rippling out from the smiles on our faces and soaking the world with this art we’ve made with our hands and our hearts and our brave willingness to be vulnerable.
May we slip into simple enjoyment.
As we know that
All pain can be healed,
All hurt can be transformed,
We are made to glisten.
Leads the path to the poetry of the beyond.
Poetry that we get, not lost in
But found in.
It’s the long-awaited poetry of the masculine meeting the feminine in this healing way.
There is a sweet sacredness in our love.
It is tinged and braided with truth that the ancestors spoke of.
It is more like the stars.
And I intend to enjoy every drop.
I will never look at you the same knowing this. I will only cherish you more...
For when I die, I will see our memories flash before me, in rapid, brilliant succession.
And I will smile.
A lone tear will leak from my eyes.
And I won’t regret a single damn thing.
I will never forget that knowing you is a miracle.
And I could call us soulmates, I could call us twin flames.
That just cheapens it.
We are just
Two people who really, really needed
Photo: Evan Kirby, Unsplash.