“I’m really glad you
came to join me,”
he says, wrapping his
arms around me.
We stay silent,
bodies entwined, hearts dancing in the space we cannot see.
A few moments pass.
You leave my embrace
to finish setting up your site.
Funny how this simple
act has saved you from yourself.
It doesn’t seem like
something holy and powerful.
Maybe it’s the act of
meticulously preparing.
Perhaps, the long
moments of watching the world pass, letting your mind talk to the sky.
Or the way something
as mysterious and dark as the water can produce such life-sustaining gifts.
Whatever it is, in
this moment, I am grateful.
You finish setting up
and join me in the sand.
And then the clouds
open, water begins to empty from the sky.
All I can do is
giggle uncontrollably.
I can’t help but to
look up and allow the warmth wash over me.
Is this what being
cleansed feels like?
You come back to me
and kiss me sweetly, as we unconscientiously move to the beat of the rain.
And I can’t remember
a time I was more at peace with the world, more at harmony with another person,
than right in this moment.
If only this moment
was enough.
Enough to pull you
out of that place your mind goes when I’m gone.
Enough to make you
suppose you are worthy of all the love this earth has to offer.
Enough to bring life
to the darkness you drown in.
Enough to make you
stay.
