i flung open all the doors and windows and let the wind rush through the house. our little home we’ve filled with us. i hear traffic, i hear the trees, i hear the sprinkler as water droplets land with gentle splatters on our concrete driveway. i feel the warmth. my skin is so slightly sun kissed, my hair salted and wild. i’m happy.
we’ve been swimming in the ocean morning and night, filling our hearts with the sea and the pleasure she brings. running into the waves with my love, playing with him and watching as his eyes turn the colour of the sea. the very act of diving in, opening my eyes to the underwater, being swayed on the tide – it makes me feel more alive, more connected. more creative and beautiful, meant-to-be and joyful and free.
swimming in the sea seems to me forever a way to draw closer to everything i am and want to be.
his skin was aglow with the fading warming sun,
even his eyes looked piercingly alight.
he stared out, i told him to wait, he stopped for me [reluctantly].
he was swallowing sunbeams and shining them right back at the sky. he didn’t even know how wonderful he was in that moment, as i fell evermore in love. he didn’t even know that i could feel all of him from where i stood, not so far away.
[i feel it all over again when i look at the flush in his cheeks in the picture i took.]
somehow it came out in the day we shared – a sunday best spent – as the sun set and the moon rose, and we soaked in salty air
the moving tide moved us closer.
the conversation turned to starlight as the moon rose over the hill we sat upon. cloudless and windless, our minds were aflutter. red wine stained our thoughts and words and we laughed and laughed and laughed.
at the end of it all, i couldn’t believe how much i loved him.
just six more days to wait.
i’ll be living inside your pockets again,
in the creases of the memories,
scattered along the dream stained threads,
of our past and future,
living tucked inside the crystal brightness of our now now now.
it’s just six more days until we find our physical way back into the perfect, embodied space of love and loving. of easiness and hopefulness
together again. and all the waiting will be worth it,
as it always is.
we’ll be real-life dreaming.
changing the way we’re meant to be made, and it’ll be pulling me apart to pull us back and into one another,
double knotting the end to the start.
and so we forever go on.
there’s something so potent about the presence of your real-life flesh and blood.
the sky is telling me stories. with its golden-hued clouds and glowing setting sun, the darkening and the lightening as time moves constant and along.
things are falling into chanced and beautiful placing. things are coming and going both rapid and slow and i find myself in the middle of it watching it float by in this mysterious happenstance. the difference is
now i see it.
as a ray of sunshine lit a too-near horizon – in all the places you’d never expect it – and i looked up and it caught my eye and i thought of something poignant and right just at that time, it put chills up my spine and goosebumps on my skin.
so many things needed to happen for me to find you.
it’s not crazy, it’s perfect.
like the sky and its stories and the winding trails to understanding the enigmatic electricity that pulses through our veins.
i feel alone / i know you’re there.
the contrast is blinding and beautiful.
i’m not lonely because you’re there, loving me.
and i love you.
i see you in the stories in the extraordinary, shielding sky we share our days and sleep beneath
and dream beneath
and miss one another
the one thing that will bring you back to me.
stories flooding and raining and coursing on the wind
as you fly home.
full of aching and yearning,
it’s weighing me down.
my heart hurts because it’s full, because i love. but somehow, tonight, i can’t bring that thought around
to all its truth and depth and loveliness.
it just keeps hurting and i don’t know how to shift it or shake it or change it, it hurts because it’s heavy because i love because i miss him.
tonight, i’m just a little more scared than usual to sleep, to dream alone.
it’s entirely necessary, how much i love him. the breathing the heart-beating.
it’s certain and it’s bold and it’s wrapped in gladness and gratitude, all our stories told and retold.
it’s necessary, it’s beautiful and so clear. we dream we hope we know.
it’ll come. it’ll stay.
it’s all we need.
[waitpinga beach, south australia]
today, i sat on a beach and watched the sunset over the ocean. i walked along its shores and let the sea run through my toes. i waited in the whitewash, i sank in the wetness.
i walked to drier ground and sat and watched the waves. i picked up sand, rubbed it between my fingers as i thought about being there. truly there. i let it hold me up, i let myself dig deeper down. i felt it’s cool damp. i saw birds and smelled air so fresh, like dry grass wet from the cooling eve. i felt the warmth on my skin and i squinted at the brightness of the day’s last light. spots formed in my vision after staring at the sun for too long, they clouded my sight, i rubbed my eyes. remembered what we were told and wondered if staring at a setting sun was alright… it sank below the horizon, turning the sky a simple faded red. an island in the foreground, its painted silhouette.
i felt a lot. i felt my breath. i counted out my inhales and my exhales. i matched them, second for second. i thought of everything and nothing and i was there, fully there. i was in myself, out of myself, within the earth. it felt like i was everywhere. i watched fishermen reel in their catches, grins spread across their faces, rods bowing at the the current and fish pulling to be free. the waves crashed to shore, out again they went. just like my breath, steady and knowing and sure.