We don’t share the same space.
The only place I see your face is in my memory –
and sometimes in my dreams as I sleep.
You didn’t reach out to me, but you touched me.
My imagination came alive and I saw you with
so much more than my eyes.
I found in you a friend.
Incomprehensible to you, created in unexplainable faith:
my heart saw you as more.
Try as I might to control that independent beating rebel,
it went off without me and fell in love with you.
Like an inconsolable scared child,
it demanded to be heard.
I listened but knew not how to respond.
Describing love, one could say it fills us with positive energy
and hope, making us believe in what does not yet exist.
If we love only from afar, loneliness soon
takes over where content silence once lived.
I reached out but fumbled – having never loved so quickly
and not knowing my position on the field –
I was blindly seeking you with a logical brain
driven by a demanding heart: a disorganized team at best
and I failed to reach my goal.
Then I dealt with the consequences.
As far as afar goes, you are about as afar as a person can be
but the memories of you are alive and well inside me:
innocent memories of conversations and smiles;
moments of recognition and understanding;
times when I felt a hint of connection
so powerful as not to be silenced by the stark reality
you are elsewhere and I am here.
I write this to say I found my content silence again
right where I left it: calmly viewing the chaos
created in my life by knowing you.
Living inside the remote portion of me no one sees
is a never-ending ache: the truth that I’ll never have you.
Your absence doesn’t diminish the electricity you created in my soul.
The silence that follows any thought of you is insignificant
compared to the noise created by your memory.
I love you –
words used by so many to mean so many different things;
for me it is a powerful statement – the only thing I have to
connect what I feel to who you are.
It is true that love is unselfish and undemanding.
Mine exists quietly on the sidelines:
grateful to have ever known you at all.
copyright July 2009