It took me months to finally realize
Your essence was most visible when you are absent,
My mind seeing you more clearly at night than in day,
Remembering your scent, your smile, the way you kiss—
These things that lingered only in memory.
As I now recall, your eyes seemed to have
Their own gravitational pull, still they tug at me even now
When I don’t want to remember quite so vividly—
But I do, especially at night as I always do.
Are you haunted by memory of how tenderly we touched?
If you are not, then I am utterly alone.
Maybe I love you and can’t see you’ve left me.
So I try to avoid the thought that you’re gone—
Which scares me to think I’m now in love with a ghost.
What can I do but sit under the Moon for hours?
Never would I bind you by promise, by obligation—
As though the ring you once wore would remind you
That I gave you my heart…. Do you remember that day,
So far away when we had no need of memory because
You were here, when we touched as we dared get close?
Lewis writes that grief feels much like fear—
It is not fear, but it feels cold and quietly comes
With fluttering in the stomach. Is the same true of love?
Love can bring sharp clarity. But clarity sometimes brings confusion
As the dance brings you close, then spins you further away.
So what do we say about love?
That as we love, we always learn humility.
We love someone enough to respect the wisdom
Of another who gives grace to our life.
And if suffering is part of love, then I am content to suffer.