Today, Paige departed on her 4-month voyage to Senegal, through a study abroad program. After 6 weeks of waiting after her last round of finals here in Bellingham, she stopped by to say a few Good-byes, and is in the air above the midwest as I write this. She will stop at JFK for several hours and then take off for Dakar.
Before she left, I gave her a piece that I wrote called "To Be Home." It is a 6-part prose-disguised-as-poetry piece that I wrote in "blank verse" style of iambic pentameter. It is a story of two young lovers. I thought I would share a sample of it, but not the whole thing. Here you go:
Part Five: Family
Side-by-side the two of them were laying.
It was their favorite position to
listen to each other's souls speak to them.
His body was the opposite of hers:
his legs were bone-thin, hers were muscular.
His shoulders were broad, hers were more petite.
Their hips were mis-matched: he had none; she did.
Still, when they embraced, it would seem as though
their forms were fitted just for each other's.
And as they now laid beside each other,
they felt the open discourse of their souls.
His hand rested just above her hipbone,
barely reaching to the small of her back.
It was his favorite of body parts,
the one that he used to pull her to him,
or to remember her delicacy.
Her head on his chest, she hears his heartbeat.
She loves that sound, to hear the most pure form
of what keeps the man who she loves alive.
With one ear she hears his physical heart;
with the other, she hears the emotional:
"Marry me, marry me, please marry me!
I am alive to become your husband,
slightly moreso everyday I live.
Let us bear good fruit with our family,
children reared by us and the Almighty.
Will you be my sister, my bride? May I
be your brother, your bridegroom? May our hands
join those of the Sovereign in good faith?
Marry me, darling, I am committed."
Her heart began to beat like a bass drum.
She hoped that he could not hear it beating!
Her eyes turned toward his and lightning struck.
She had known he would eventually
say those words to her, and in that moment
she realized that her answer was, "Yes,
I can be your sister, and be your bride.
Your wife: your sometimes lover, always friend.
We can fight the good fight of family;
you, my husband; I, your wife, and the Lord."
Their eyes met, and it felt like the first time.
In a way it was, for this was the first
time that their eyes met as husband and wife.
She lost her breath for a moment, caught it,
closed her mouth, reached up, and kissed his left cheek.
They closed their eyes and their mouths, and rested.
His hand found that skin above her left hip,
her ear found his restless heartbeat again,
their chests rose and fell together, as they
would from this day to the rest of their lives.
