(fragmented)

“You take a right at the end of this block (heartbreak). Then, you go about a quarter mile down, past the old Blackwell mansion with its decaying fence-line (internal suffering), and make a hard left. You’ll meander through the wooded property for what feels like forever (memory sifting) until your legs are weak, lungs gasping for air (anxiety-fueled panic). Through the clearing, you’ll find a stream where you can indulge in refreshment (selective remembering). Don’t be alarmed, at that point, you’ll be close. What you’re looking for will be within view of the horizon (eternal hope),” she eyed me curiously, wondering if I understood the endeavor, if I had the fortitude for discovery.

“Thank you,” I uttered, completely lacking in awareness (soul detachment).

I started forward on the guided path, but hesitated, looking back at the woman, mature in years and heartache, acknowledging her departed wisdom with a slight nod of my head (re-attachment). She couldn’t understand my dilemma, my troubles being unique.

“Will I see you again?” I asked as an afterthought (uncertainty), wholly surprised at my need to know the answer.

She was unmoved in her stoicism. Her lips pursed. I could feel her toying with the idea in the same way the wind skirts along your cheek with a brusqueness (nostalgia).

“No,” she intoned with a still spirit, “you will understand when you reach your destination (fated outcome).”

With a weariness, I accepted the magnitude of the moment for what it held in promise. A second nod was given in an understanding that this journey was mine, an unfolding of events that would lead to home (self-exploration).

-(delusion)

--(despair)

---(deceit)

----(damage)

-----(darkness)

------(discussion)

-----(deviation)

----(depth)

---(duty)

--(desire)

-(divinity)

All the words and feelings twisted into a unified whole (deliverance).  

And so I turned with unsure footing to the new day, bound in beauty, set to find myself again (repeated pattern). For the first time, I took note of the hawk circling in a lazy swoop of air, the ease in which the oversized bird hovered above knowledge. I let myself focus on the minutiae of each blade of grass I trampled, listening to the footfalls as twigs cracked and I broke the earth (destruction).

The sunlight filtered through the canopy of dancing leaves, the winds whistling their resolve in the cold damp of time. My attention drawn to the sudden scampering of a nearby squirrel, hopping a path to safety (unknown), I longed to be a companion. For as much as I have fought for solitude, the crux of my pursuit has been the elusive acceptance, to be chosen, to be loved (tragic grandeur). I walked further into the abyss, daring anyone to oblige.

“Pray about it,” I heard the unnatural sound of my whisper, trudging deeper into the accumulated angst and misery. I have basked too long in the rejection of self-loathing.

Carefully hiking through the woods, my thoughts wander to the mundane. The routines which confine are liberating in their predictability. They let the soul rest (vanquished sleep). I can smell the morning coffee, how the warmth rises from the cup, holding me in its redolent grasp. It is the knee-jerk reaction I need to own the beginning (familiarity). I read the newspaper the old-fashioned way where the fingertips are inked in black. I walk Ozzy, my truest faithful companion. Fern will get there, but she is a disordered mess of playfulness that exists only for the frivolity of the moment. I shower. I take photographs of people’s best moments: the weddings, christenings, birthdays, graduations, and anniversaries. I capture sunsets, ocean swells, nature returning to its foregone state, but I hold in my heart the weight of reluctance.

Disillusionment.

(all i really want is for you to hear me. tell me i’m wrong. that i’m onto a purposeful lead (forgiven), that i won’t feel lost for the entirety of this trek. please tell me something. do you hear my pleas? don’t ever assume that I don’t feel the pain.)

I run my hand along the outside edge of my pants’ pocket, feeling for the outlines of a map, something to supplement the vague directions provided (attenuated comfort). The woods intersect with the sighing stream. My gait quickens, lured by the melancholy sound of the water as it runs its parallel course. The water is cold and crisp in its movement through my fingers. I feel alive (secure), connected to this source of life. I take a sip from the cupping of my hands to sustain activity (folly).

I sense that I am close. The night descends with a rapidity that starts at the far edges and creeps inward, narrowing my field of vision (limited fear). The first inkling of starlight appears, the faint glow of another world. I continue the methodical advancement, quiet footsteps. Night smells different than day, an odious quality, and I am heightened to the sensitivities of danger.

Squinting, the smoke lifting from the chimney is discernible. It rises in a steady ascent, inching above the horizon. The light from the house holds a steady glow behind the curtains. It comes rushing back with a forcefulness, the words we passed between each other without considering that tomorrow might not come (feigned recklessness).

“Do you still want this?”

“Yes,” you mouth the word with a pained expression, imploring me to see the underlying hurt.

“Let’s try then,” I choke it out, begging for the chance.

“I’m scared.”

“What are you scared of?” I ask. The way you look at me is disabling, like I should have guessed at your concerns (broken).

All you wanted was to protect your station, to scurry away your heart. I can see it now, the reflexive choice we make when confronted with the breathlessness, the idea of falling in love (honesty).

(i told you every way i could without saying i love you. i am at fault.)

I sprint toward the afterglow of what could have been, running faster and faster. Stretching my legs past exhaustion, I race a path toward the future. I take the stairs two at a time that lead to the porch of the humble house. Stopping inches from the sturdy door, I collect my thoughts (hurriedness). With my arm raised, my fist leaning against the wooden frame, the night air pacifies my breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Think about what you’re going to say.

Before the present coalesces with the past, the door opens. In that singular space when our eyes connect, when our souls plunge to a depth that portends forgiveness, I am privy to the secret (lost). We are soulmates, tethered to the inexplicable. 

I will accommodate the burden of two hearts.