Desert of Man

Writing. Culture. Politics. Wandering.

What a day, what a fool.

What a day, what a fool.

I met a girl. No, a woman. First time I make that distinction in a long time. She is as young and old as I am, laughs and plays, cries and shares. But she knows herself, carries a wisdom I cannot describe. It’s in her voice, posture and her way of walking. How she looks at me, at those around us. It almost makes me admit to still being a man.

I met her under water, diving at a reef. Hardly flattering first impressions, no chance to say hello. Only signals shared in silence, watching creatures going by. Sharing observations, fingers guiding eyes to details, otherwise left unseen. I followed, could not lead. Here I would not wish to.

Shining eyes behind a mask, guiding blindly as we float. Memory of temptation. Thoughts of hope and questions.

On the surface we finally exchanged words. Now scant hours later, we’re beyond them. No more masks, still in that rythm of the sea.

With tedious effort, in memory of pain I say goodbye. Noting questions as I dodge concern. I accept mystery and knowledge, even eyes wide open, but run from embracing arms.

I am grateful for these hours, wishing I could share. But as this divide is laced with fire, that door is barred at least for now. Maybe one day I can accept arms beyond those eyes. Today I can only linger, after moving on.

– Mack

I know, I know.

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This entry was posted on June 12, 2013 by in Muse, Write and tagged , , , , , .

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