I can still smell the orchids and spice of your perfume as I remember the satin perfection of our hands slipped within one another’s. The memory of your gown brushing against me still sends me into an almost inhumanely breathless climax. I was part of you, within you, one with you.
We belonged so much to one another.
I remember how you called to me from the dark, lonely and lost in your tiny little world of picnics, pomp, and programs. You called for freedom. You cried so hard, the tears staining your petticoats as you sat at your vanity in the mirror, all alone, rang out like a trumpet into the universe, calling out for something, someone, anyone to take you away. You prayed to your ancestors, to the wind, to your God, to some angels and lo, yes, My angel, you were heard! I heard you.
Oh, how I heard you…
The psalm of innocence which sang in your voice ripped open my soul and I heard you. I heard you and I answered – I had to! My heart screamed with your screams. I was so pained by your pain, so hurt by your hurt, that when you opened your hands to receive salvation, it wasn’t enough for me to just merely reply. I wanted – I had to let you know it was me, that your hero had come at last.
And when I first slipped my touch across the velvet cream of your cheeks and looked through your eyes, thrilled by ecstasy, I knew I was home. We were home with one another. We were one and we belonged.
It was the power of love that compelled you in the beginning.
Unfortunately, it was the power of Christ that compelled me at the end…