The other half? @Coppercicada
I used to think of the concept of one's 'other half' as this amazingly romantic, beautiful thing.
What is more comforting against icy gray bite of isolation than the warmth inherent in the concept of a soulmate or twin flame?
Then, I was like a bedraggled kitten following the kind man to the station, the one who had thrown a piece of chicken from his sandwich, before commencing his long commute home.
There is no shame in being a bedraggled and unwanted kitten.
It is just needing the heat of the hearth and some warm milk to become a fat puddle of purrs, that makes a house into a welcome home, spinning with the earth through seasons of time, far under the sparkling, spiralling, ecstatic lights of the milky way.
This magic lost, that reality unheard.
At some stage I was educated that the concept of one's other half was cloying, co- dependent and freaky.
Besides if such a thing existed it was buried in the wet muck of the bottom of a river bed. Accessible only to the mythical platypus, who preferred silver to gold.
And what do I feel now? As a woman loved by a man who distains worn out cliches while holding in his fist a tangle of myths and legends that have sprung up at his feet and he's torn from the earth?
I have learnt the soft kneading warmth of feeling his gaze upon my smile
That his touch on my back unleases a tidal flow of heat
That his regard sets my skin aglow
I pause to smile at the stangest of times, like in the middle of dishes
And stand with my head cocked
Remembering a time I made him laugh
Perhaps these things too will pass and we'll sit in the garden, old, together.
"Did you ever find your other half?" he'll ask and laugh
And the messages in the memories like a warm rose petalled blush will creep along my cheeks
And I'll answer clear like a bell
That in loving me he unleashed my better half
That in his light, his loving constancy, I recovered from the shadows that part of me that couldn't exist without him
The part that dances with and for another
That in being loved, by him
I became beautiful.
What is more comforting against icy gray bite of isolation than the warmth inherent in the concept of a soulmate or twin flame?
Then, I was like a bedraggled kitten following the kind man to the station, the one who had thrown a piece of chicken from his sandwich, before commencing his long commute home.
There is no shame in being a bedraggled and unwanted kitten.
It is just needing the heat of the hearth and some warm milk to become a fat puddle of purrs, that makes a house into a welcome home, spinning with the earth through seasons of time, far under the sparkling, spiralling, ecstatic lights of the milky way.
This magic lost, that reality unheard.
At some stage I was educated that the concept of one's other half was cloying, co- dependent and freaky.
Besides if such a thing existed it was buried in the wet muck of the bottom of a river bed. Accessible only to the mythical platypus, who preferred silver to gold.
And what do I feel now? As a woman loved by a man who distains worn out cliches while holding in his fist a tangle of myths and legends that have sprung up at his feet and he's torn from the earth?
I have learnt the soft kneading warmth of feeling his gaze upon my smile
That his touch on my back unleases a tidal flow of heat
That his regard sets my skin aglow
I pause to smile at the stangest of times, like in the middle of dishes
And stand with my head cocked
Remembering a time I made him laugh
Perhaps these things too will pass and we'll sit in the garden, old, together.
"Did you ever find your other half?" he'll ask and laugh
And the messages in the memories like a warm rose petalled blush will creep along my cheeks
And I'll answer clear like a bell
That in loving me he unleashed my better half
That in his light, his loving constancy, I recovered from the shadows that part of me that couldn't exist without him
The part that dances with and for another
That in being loved, by him
I became beautiful.
