Not for a moment could I ever pretend that my thoughts and heart and mind are not filled with your smile.
Not even if I rewrote our story with tragedy in the end,
could the depth and truth and gift of our love ever be held in denial.
For you are, and have always been,
the love of all my lifetimes.
This is not a response or a rebuff,
but rather a poetic truth in this deliberate space.
The honesty of my heart today is that I am working to remember who I am,
though I know this season of my healing is far from over.
And I miss you more than poetry could explain , but I love you more than to reopen our wounded pain.
For God used you to wake my soul.
And yes, it’s true…
I became tangled,
blurring the worship between the love and the lover.
But never will I curse or regret,
nor seek apologies or forgiveness
for what was born in my heart through each sacred moment,
save for the pain that stung us all,
and the tears I could not comfort.
I stood beneath that same full blue moon,
hand to heart,
true love in my chest.
I prayed to God for your highest good,
and willed beauty for your soul with my highest best.
Without desire to own.
Without anxiety to possess.
Without anger for what I cannot control.
Only peace.
Only grace.
Only trust.
For you to flourish.
For you to shine.
Begging God to reveal
the intentions of this true, though silent, love.
My memories are haunted,
but my heart is at peace.
For I am learning that the most loving thing I can give
is an open-handed release.
And so I will trust the love.
And I will silence the fear.
I will trust the Author with the pages still unwritten,
though the story, to me, is still unclear.
I am utterly undone,
and wholly transformed,
by the divine encounter
across from a charcuterie board.
I still listen for the hawks,
and bless you each time I see a butterfly.
And through a quiet, surrendered kind of love,
my heart is becoming more alive.
Deeply and truly,
no two words could ever be more true.
Hopefully it’s not Gatsby.
Maybe it’s Pride and Prejudice.
Perhaps it’s an ending of its own, ever new.
The gift of your heart.
The mercy of our growth.
The twin flames of our passion.
The grief in all our goodbyes.
The grace in both of our open hands
They still conjure whispered prayers
on moonlit nights .
