Forty-Seven

“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.