I am caught longing for a man that I don't know if I've met fully.
I have not always told you the truth, you know. Even when I have said that I wanted to tell you the truth, I was dancing silent lies into your prayer beads my friend. I was casting spells from my cauldron of pain. I was tracing bloodlines of color mixed with black, hoping you could heal me. You , my beloved , so trusting in me.... So trusting in one who has mastered keeping the truth even from herself....
Have given trust where it is not safe.
Have wound yourself around a lightening rod.
Am I safe? Is anyone safe? Many years ago, before the stories became too many to count and too convoluted to trust, I did trust. I trusted that all was well, that life was good, and that god was tangible. I didn't need to believe. I just did. But 30 years later, I am sitting in your living room, fire crackling behind me, and trust is a land far far away where magic creatures enter caves of light and swim away into pools of liquid gold.
Your living room where I spent years trying to tell you simple things.
Your living room where I gaveup my childhood, begging you silently to release her,
that it would free me too.
You, in your Your well worn captains chair where you told me how it was going to be, soothing my primal need to survive. And 30 years later, here we are, primal needs on the table, still too much pain to move forward on the path of marriage and divorce and blame and forgiveness. It is snowing outside, and I haven't been here with you in the winter for over 10 years. We used to love the winter..... You'd pull me out of school early on a big snow day, and take me up north to our favorite ski area. We'd spend all afternoon swishing and flying down the mountain..... Happy and free and lost. Lost in the way where you know you can't go wrong. Lost in the way that you never need to be found out. Lost , just for an afternoon. The stories a faint dream in the distance. And, of course, the distance ahead arrives eventually, and when that eventually comes, it is time to be found again, in our roles .... In our ways of caretaker and taken..... in our stories of silence and waiting.
I've been waiting in a castle across the sea for you . I ve been waiting for you to come. To see me in my life, where I'm not messed up, where I've turned coal into soil and ash into living blood. Where I have created my own castle, my own dragons, my own protector.