Please Click Play Below to Hear the Spoken Word Audio File of this Writing Piece:
The Service of Love
It’s so important for you to live
And be happy in the here and now
But that’s no longer possible while I am away.
You tried.
You tried so hard to let go of the fear
but it never soothed the loneliness in your heart.
Not from here.
Me, I’m a dreamer. I dream away anyway.
I felt certain of the future because that’s where I live.
My second home.
While I felt confident of the future you felt so uncertain of the present.
But I never did.
I gave you my heart and I never looked back
Because the end of the story had already been written.
You wanted to be touched now.
You wanted to be loved now.
You wanted something I cannot give
from half the world away.
I could give you my love through a telephone,
through a hand-scribbled note,
a poem, a rose, or
back to the damn phone,
But I cannot love you how I love best and that is with
my hands. My body.
My warm, supple skin and the slow rhythmic heartbeat you can feel just beneath
My breast, my breath, my moving up-and-down chest.
It beats for you.
It does.
But you can’t feel it.
Not from there while I’m here
serving my duty. My country. Part of my life dream
And so it would seem
that’s it for now.
I woke up one day and my whole world had changed
And the people would look at me and say, “you’re so young, my dear,
It’s supposed to be this way.
That gross, overtold fairy-tale of lovers growing old and gray,
Well, if that were the case
She’d stay.”
So it would seem that’s it for now.
Now my heart goes onward with each new day
Confused at things I felt once were.
The future seems a lie and the present seems a mystery
And the past throbs in my heart like a living, breathing, history.
But I quiet it’s voice with each inhaled breath,
Accepting the lies, the “one-days”, and inevitable death.
This thing, it’s bigger than I, than you, than us.
It’s time to settle in comfortably to the vulnerability
The looming uncertainties.
Time to erase the ending to the story I’d already written,
The ending I read to you each night like a bedtime story.
It’s time to wake up with a blank page,
Until the words write themselves.
This is my service. It has my heart, but you have my love.
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