cannot be quenched.

i breathe in, and then i let go. we're in bed and the blackness hovers over our bodies like a blanket - we're hiding from the chill underneath the down and my hands grasp at its fingers for strength.

it's been two weeks since my memory wakened with a start. my heart's been moaning ever since, realizing the lost years and false truths i've swallowed like bitter medicine. i squeeze my eyes shut and try to lock the words in - but the Healer won't let me go. my fingers crawl to my love's arm and i pull him towards me.

how do you tell your other half you've lived incomplete? how do you find courage to embrace the past and all it's blurred images?

i did it the same way i began: tears and a sense of holy charis  - only in breaking do i find strength. only in the Refiner's fire do i find growth. the questions come despite the knowing - the ifs and hows - and i fight to push away the clawing persistence of fear. this is safe, i tell myself. memories' kiss can't touch me here.

my words fall halted and my tears come unwelcomed. sometimes, it feels as if i've been crying for decades. i tell him this. i sniff the Truth and hold it gingerly in my hands, waiting for a response. he finds my tears and wipes them clean, whispering things silenced by the low hum of a fan and the neighbor's pulsing party rhythm.

he loves me still.

my eyes well up on my own accord - but this time it's joy and relief spilling out, undone. for a brief moment, i rest safe in arms who have not hurt me and cry against a shoulder that's caught many tears.

this is when i know. love's fire cannot be quenched. through hard days and disappointments, slow smiles growing at the sight of dollar bills, and side-splitting laughter muffled by pillows to keep from waking others. it pulses and purifies, echoing the moan of our heart while breathing life into our lungs. my love is strong. unyielding. messy. beautiful. my love is ours - breathtaking in its power and intensity.

we fall asleep in tangled arms - waking to quiet eyes and small smiles.  a new season began before our very eyes and we breathe in the grace while reaching for the other's hand. my heart still moans and tears still come unbidden at memory's breaking and entering, but my love grows strong. and i know when i look in his eyes, it's something of the Healer's doing - a part of His plan. only He can birth a love so deep.

our days go by quick and our nights move in slow motion - relearning, recreating, rebirthing. this is the love of Redemption, laughing in the face of pain. nothing is too big for Me, He says. and our hearts wipe clean and the fire roars.

today i write imperfect prose. join us?

Posted on January 26, 2011 and filed under fluttering pulses.