You are missing from me…
French translation of Tu me manques.
Because, as weeks and months go by,
of your absence I am acutely aware…
painfully, profoundly so.
For what you say and how you think and who you are
all carry life—
breathing, pulsing, rousing,
enriching my life with their being,
with your living.
You do not view it as such,
but I see past the surface
to dormant virtue, untapped…
a rose waiting to bud,
to be nurtured for blossoming at a time yet to come.
And the vision I own begs to be owned by you as well,
that you would see the potential within,
the beauty wanting release.
You and I were meant to be friends—
yet, more than friends—
sisters with common blood…
Because even as my words stumble,
you sense my meaning,
and I cease working so hard at explaining,
our thoughts being so similar,
running parallel within the same sphere.
And you, as steps falter,
as light of hoping seems to fade,
I am knowing,
and continue in caring—
to a depth within you of possibility
beyond your comprehension,
perhaps even mine.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I saw this friend last night,
one I thought had become lost,
she who slipped quietly away,
who unknowingly left a gaping void with her absence.
In time my mind grew sluggish from lack of communion,
the drought of invigorating discourse,
my days hollowed by her having disappeared
from my life,
by not being presently alive in the spot carved out for her here.
And when last night
our eyes and hearts confirmed the unexpected meeting
our arms embracing each other’s gentle form,
I knew the gap filled once again with her presence.
She has for too long been missing from me,
and although I felt the emptiness,
until in those first moments I had not understood how acutely,
when the joy of having her back in the same room,
in the very space I stood
To be continued…