this may eventually be one of a series of pieces inspired by eric whitacre's "five hebrew love songs," but for now, it stands alone.
The title, "rakut," means "tenderness," and the translated lyrics are in the endnotes.
. . .
"Come here," d'Artagnan whispers into the dark of the night, the hopelessness, the war.
"Come here," he breathes, words carried in the wind that howls around the tents and beats against the canvas and tears into his soul.
"Come here," he says, eyes as soft as his voice and arms as open as his heart, and Athos falters in the face of them — but like the tide to the moon, he is drawn in, and like a frightened child, he seeks shelter inside of them.
"Come here," d'Artagnan whispers into his hair, pulling him closer and closer until there is no place for Athos' forehead but on d'Artagnan's shoulder, nowhere for his hands to be but over d'Artagnan's beating heart, no room for the miserable, choking grief between his ribs and d'Artagnan's firm embrace.
"Come here," he breathes, and holds him.
"Come here," he says —
— and Athos, for the first time that he can easily remember, lets himself be held until the cold iron of his blood turns once more to warmth and the rigid terror of his spine wilts once more to softness.
. . .
He was full of tenderness;
She was very hard.
And as much as she tried to stay thus,
Simply, and with no good reason,
He took her into himself,
And set her down
In the softest, softest place.
. . .
Happy Valentine's Day!