Where I Have Been

This will make little or no sense to you but it does to me. I used to be the writer of sad stories, I used to be the poet of longing. Sad eyes were my specialty. I knew all the windows in the neighbourhoods I used to walk in at night that would have bulbs of electricity lighting my stumbling strolls. I was the singer of frustrated desire, mystic channel of two lovers in two towns cut off for eternity.

All that is gone now.

You wonder at my silence?

I have not lost a part of me. I have been on journeys to find he who I lost when staring in the hall of mirrors, I walked with the muse of exquisite longing. She said if you it is something you must do then do it, I will only be whole when you’re whole, to whole go on your journey. So I went. To find he who I lost entranced by the muse of exquisite longing, he walked away, I went back for him.

Two people I have wished for happiness more than any others are happy. I was waiting for this without knowing, brooding Sphinx silent, uncertain if tears or laughter would rack me next. I have found him! Write happy tales now, walking around in your world, the world is young! Let me celebrate you.

I used to think loss was sadness, before you. Foolish me! There are some evenings I have had thinking about the things we talked about that still make me smile, I was not just holding your hand, we were holding each other up. You kept me walking when I thought through the rubble of these torn deserted towns; we could never reach safety again. I was more afraid than I told you. We have come through!

I’m sitting in this car facing a river deep in the night, not alone. She is here. I’m here. I’m about to tell you a happy story…