As I come back to myself again
(how was it that I ever went away?)
disentangling the many deep connections
that once we shared so deeply and completely,
my reactions once again astound me.
It is as if my soul is rallying
providing just the strength I need
to turn it all around and lead me on.
You threw me for a loop again last week;
in that letter that you sent, directing
yet again, all the anger that you felt
from every source, even your past, at me.
It gets easier though, as
time goes on.
I replied to you again, as quickly and honestly
as I could. Iím sure you will again find a way
to turn it around in your mind though,
and blame that anger back on me again. This
seems to be the only cycle that you consistently
adhere to these days.
I numbly wonder why it is
that you would choose
to excuse so much abuse from your relationships
of the past, even to this point of giving up on
the exquisite love that came so easily between us.
But then I am reminded once again, how very
dangerous certain questions can be, and I choose
again not to pursue the answers to the questions
your decisions brought about, for they are yours
to answer now, not mine.
Yet too, I see now where I
made the wrong assumptions.
For instance, I assumed that since youíd studied
psychology in your youth, that over the years,
you must have bothered to apply it to your own life.
In some very existential and extroverted ways,
it seems you had. But alas, when it came down to
the realm of your own very real emotions, and that
deeper sense of reflection within, never
had you dared to even try to understand
the twists, the turns, the deeper yearnings
left so long unsatisfied inside of you.
And while I know your amazing
focus of mind
most often keeps those emotions at bay for you,
I also know the feelings, even now, that eat away
at you from deep inside. For we were one, and so
I spent some treasured times of wonder
there within your heart, but as all else, I had to
travel on, into those other realms that for a while
you hid away from me. Perhaps the strangest things
about completeness within intimacy of flesh lie here,
in particles of flesh that seldom get their turn
to speak, yet live and breathe and grow within a
darkness of denial that invisibly transfers itself
into another, all unasked.
For you see, my most intimate
companion, I really
do understand - for long ago, I was there too. No matter
that our outer circumstances seemed to differ, these
feeling realms coincide at the most invisibly intimate
levels of pure being. And so I sought to share with you,
the many volumes of intuitive wisdom that somehow
my soul, my spirit, this nature we are, have deigned
to share with me over many, many years of questing,
and I, just another poor wanderer upon
the path to a place Iím still not sure of. I can only
be sure right now that I will recognize it as my true home
when at last I arrive there.
And often, just as you, I
craved just one - one other
on this path of truth to walk with, hand in hand,
and heart to heart. Alas, youíve chosen otherwise,
for you chose to take a fork in the path
that was never mine to tread at all. You seek
now, it seems, my commitment to a thus far
unconceived and unconceivable future with you.
Yet I cannot promise what I cannot conceive
as true for me. And I cannot conceive of us
together again, while still you walk a path of past
endeavoring to extend itself in pain and death
and loss and grief, into the future that cries out
for nothing more than to be free to love in truth.
For my own future beckons
once again to me,
not in some nameless fantasy, but here, within
my heart. And even if this quest for love thatís true,
may never have an end, or a completion or a surety,
still gladly do I choose to be its continuance. I can
explain no more than this to you. Even words are
escaping me at this moment. If ever though, you find
a way to escape your past imprisonment for good,
truly will I welcome you beside me once again.
Yet if another does it first, and offers
it to me - there will I be - beyond the realm
of all your reckoning.
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...