What I Will Do

 

marc-chagall-midsummer-nights-dream

Midsummer Night’s Dream by Marc Chagall

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I will pack a suitcase and hitch a ride across town.  I will stall in traffic.  I will stand in long lines.  I will raise my arms above my head to be searched after entering an airport to fly into your town on any flight I can afford and I will be grateful for any wait and any inconvenience because each and every moment I spend getting there is one second closer to being there, soaking you in, absorbing you, standing in your presence, staring into your sun, being burned by your brightness and reddened by the radiation of your aura.  My corneas will waste away and result in nothing and I will be glad because you are why I have corneas, to look at you, to look up at you, to long for you.  My corneas were made to melt and melt they will because melt is what you make them do as I stand at your doorstep and stare up at you.  The threshold of your house is the hearth to your heart and I will stand on it and be glad I did and do because I do to it be close to you, close to your heart and further away from my head the one that lies and conspires and tells me I can’t do what I want to do.  It tells me I can’t love you and that I will leave you because regardless of how easily my actions illustrate otherwise, it says I’m incapable of giving what I think I’m incapable of receiving and understanding; that I can’t give what I don’t believe I possess but I do because I do it so easily and earnestly and comfortably with you.  I give of myself and my goals and wants because what I want is you.  Do you remember?  Me saying that, writing that, posting that publicly?  You say “I’m comfortable being myself around you” and I say I’m glad because the you who you are is the you who I want, every little piece and part and speck of you because love you is what you’ve taught and I’ve learned how to do; I model what you’ve given me right back to you.  And what of the risk of rejection of my last offer and last stand, laying my cards on the table and playing my hand?  What of the humiliation and pain at the possibility of being turned away?  It’s far less than the lifetime of loss and regret I’m sure to suffer if I don’t do what my heart and not my head says I must say.

FN, S.

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