He wakes me in the night.
I feel him although he is not here.
I hear him though there is no sound.
His arms hold me close as he whispers in my soul, ” I am here.”
Tears fall on my pillow.
I yell into the darkness, “No you are not!”
He replies gently, “I never left you.”
I yell some more.
I remember vividly when he left.
I remember each goodbye.
The war was raging and he had to go into battle on his own.
He gave me my freedom, yet I did not feel free.
Freedom was in his arms.
Freedom was the way our souls danced,
The way our lips spoke an ancient language each time they pressed against our skin.
How our bodies danced as One.
Freedom was being present and open to a sacred raging fire
That transformed us into nothing and everything
Until all that was left was
Many roads and lifetimes we have traveled.
I have let go of all the stories.
I have cleansed, cleared.
I have saged and burned
Yet there is a something that remains.
An eternal love.
One that cannot be defined.
One that cannot be caged.
One that is free to roam through all time, space and dimensions.
No matter how hard you try
You will not win this battle.
Love does not die.