Love lives here

embracing the present, longing for the sea

Lighting a candle and a stick of juniper, I close my eyes and feel the pull of an invisible thread. Fresh tulsi tea in my cup as the sun casts a golden glow on the front lawn. I wonder if I will find the words and what will meet me on the other side of longing.

My wings are half-furled, waiting to fly across the sea. Neighbours grow echinacea. Wildflowers spill onto the street. My mother's roses are still in bloom. I have been inhaling the green of an Ontario summer all day.

S/he takes my hand, looks in my eyes and says, “This is a perfect life.” I know what s/he says is true, even as I am half-winged and never far from my longing for the Cretan sea. I know love lives in the touch of our hands.

In another life, we are dancing at golden hour, meeting waves on shore with laughter, olive-stained fingers, and lyric rhythms. In this life, our cats begin to wake, the street is calm, s/he chops vegetables in the kitchen, and my tea tastes sweet.

Still, I close my eyes. Invisible

thread. Pulling.

A far offshore waits. A step.

I meet myself again.