Whisper of a Touch

Simple love.

Allow no relationship to pin you into the past.

Each day we are born again.

With the wind in the pines I will rise off my knees to greet you.

I've chosen resurrection, beloved.

One last frost they say. A second wave of tulips yields black, purple and a smattering of delicate pinks and yellows. A hedge of Lily of the Valley begins to bloom, despite all of the violent rips and tears. Before you wince, make no mistake, they have already won. The garden waits on what I do not have but every day I return to it with a song; at least there is that.

A return to Gun Lake and this time, I will not be naked. But there is the fact that I can no longer conceal love. So, ask and I will answer.

Shall we be done with those nasty serpents and vipers? What is gentle and serene invites us home. Come closer. No more wind and rain. No more dynamite or lightening bolts. Only the arms that can never let go.

A butterfly lands briefly on my inner wrist and I feel its whisper of a touch. This is how I know love is death and death is love, for to die in that moment would have been the widest, most untouchable love.