Coffee and Me

Not-yet-light but not-still-dark.

Coffee and me.

Only.

*

a little bit softer now . . .

*

A moment happened in a realm that floats between seeing and vision.

It occurred.

I looked at her, maybe for the first time, but I really looked at her.

I faced her.

And she faced me.

She saw me as dishonoring, despicable, disgraceful.

And I broke character for the first time in this whole thing.

*

Mary Magdalene didn't take or borrow or love anyone's husband.

Mary Magdalene was the only.

*

The truth doesn't land well.

Instead, the sea boils in its single-minded interest to replace oxygen with the salty tears of every being able to able to cry them.

She doesn't get what she wants in the end.

You get what you need.

*

For as far back as I can remember, I have been trying.

I've been trying match what my soul hungers and craves and bleeds for with what is in front of me.

And after that, I have been trying to match the hunger with what is possible. What has potential. What could be. And after that....

is now.

*

What kind of God loves you so much that they ask you to give up everything?

You might say that sounds like a woman.

But to me, that sound like a man.

*

I have a letter waiting.

A book to give.

Dried first flowers from every spring since the day we met.

My whole heart, pressed between pages of hope.

And Love says I must throw every treasure into the sea?

I must choose death?

In order to truly love?

What if I cannot?

What if Love doesn't win?

*

It's dark for 7 a.m.

A light rain glosses the deck enough to see the reflection of pines.

It's coffee and me.

Only.