Before Me... Him!
Who is this man that haunts my life? He is here and there! He is everywhere my eyes fall. And yet deep inside where the all too familiar fear still survives, I continue to doubt what he offers so willingly. He does not adhere to the normal vices of man versus woman, but rather takes what he needs and gives with abandon what he feels I need.
He is strong and proud. He is marred by his past just as I am. But rather than continue to let it rule him, he chooses me. He is my strength when my own wavers, as I am his. Where has this icon of liberation been throughout this life of burden? Or is it only now, after a life of endless trial, that I can recognize my need of him; of what he offers so freely?
He is my freedom. He sees my reluctance to live unabashedly because of the past that haunts me. The need for merciless control drives my every action, word and longing. He knows and understands, yet gently coaxes me to unfurl the fist choking my existence.
In the quiet of night he sings to me softly and whispers his care with more than words. His voice carries his heart and pulls me to him as though I were the perfect melody searching for his perfect lyric. His hands play the chords of my passion as if he knew me before I knew myself. When I reach for him, I find his fingers already in flight to find mine.
He knows me; sometimes I think more than I know myself. But in so many ways he still remains a mystery; one that I long to unravel. His eyes express his heart when he feels it is safe. I am not so blessed, for he knows within the space of a moment what I think and feel and yearn for. I cannot hide from him. And should the truth be want to stay concealed, I do not wish to hide. I have long searched for someone like him whether aware of what I sought or not.
To see what I do not have the courage to speak, to hear what my voice is unwilling to share, for someone to know my heart without my benefit… it has been and remains my deepest desire.
He knows; he hears… he answers. And in that part of my heart, that unbeknownst to me seems to have been reserved just for him, he lives and breathes and waits. He waits for me to become familiar with what he already knows.
He waits for the words that I do not find easy. He waits for the whisper of them to float through the air, for he knows that I will not shout them. He knows because he understands my fear of them. And still he waits.
Should I give him what he longs to hear? Should I be the first? It would be unexpected… extraordinary. Never have I spoken first. Why would I consider to do so now when I can see what he feels. Why can I not wait for him to speak first?
I have shared the air that he breathes and I know he fears just as I do. Is his fear greater than mine, more consuming? Perhaps. But he has given so much and asked so little. I am more because of him. Trust is again entering my heart because of him. How can I not be the first? How can I feel so much and not allow him the same indulgence? Between the two of us, the time must come for me to be willing to give as he has given.
I choose the time to be now. I choose to trust in the possibility of a miracle, of two forever one. I choose him as he has chosen me. Before I give anything more of myself to that which does not belong to us... I give to him.
"I love you."
He turns to me and his eyes are bright and filled with hope. His fingers reach to join mine and his whisper follows. "Thank you."
I know why he speaks his gratitude. He thanks me for being the first, for giving him not only my life and my body but at last, my heart as well. It is his gift to hear first what he already recognized as truth. He thanks me for believing in him… in us… as one. Pulling me close his lips touch the curve of my ear as he returns the confession of my whisper and with one beat our hearts smile as two become one.
