Him

Morning. 

Hot tears singe. How many times have I been told to stop crying? It’s not good for the soul, they’d hiss. Fools. 

Now I want to drown them in these tears. Blazing lava, abundant. 

Nevermind. 

I’m lost in your love yet I find neither you nor me. I wonder – the shape of your lips, the way your eyes fall on your face, the way I would surrender into them. I wonder what your hands are like – wishing to hold. To find. To give. How your skin speaks against mine. Finding. I seek for you daily.

*** 

In nature: we are always enough. The trees don’t ask much of me, no demands. 

Just be, just be. 

Can you feel how much he holds you, this tree? On your heaviest days his roots are immutable. Looking up, his crown branches out resembling your lungs. Breath. How much alike you both are. Breathe him in. 

You’re searching for a love like this, sure of itself and unchangeable. Not seeing it was right here, all along. Within this hardened skin of his trunk. 

Allow it, allow it to serve your longing. Receive it like a silent miracle that answered your prayer. He tells me: 

do not rush your healing. 

this is not a chase towards lightness. a sprinting out of this cocoon. 

take your time in this unfolding 

prolong this longing 

this brewing 

the prayer. 

what you seek is also seeking you^*. 

_{*line inspired from poem by Sufi poet Rumi}