A Prose Poem
She never wanted to get married, never wanted to be committed. Not a wild life, but choosing to live, wanting to be safe. A church sometimes. The nightmare of her childhood, was gone now, but still lingering in the shadows. Me, I never knew love, until the Chinese food, and talking in the parking lot. I was seeking solutions outside. Not quite a monastery, but the meditation of loneliness. Carrying wounds from my parents. Where is the love?
We were two hearts, running into each other, bleeding on each other, but that was ok.
We paid for our own wedding, our fathers were invisible, mine didn’t want my hands in her Afro. She was still running from pain when she came down the aisle, but I had my arms ready. We were both safe. The most beautiful moments in our lives, two lost souls exchanging rings. Candles were burning in our hearts now. Later, fireworks, and healing from the heat. I wanted her body and soul.
There was a God. There had to be, with this kind of love. Burning, we were converted. And now, some wounds here and there, but smaller, and nothing we can’t handle. Rocks thrown at us, but we are still alive. And still talking in the parking lot, eating Chinese food. Looking into the face, of healing.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2015, nicodemasplusthree
Peace and blessings to everyone.
“If you love nature, you will love people.”