By Gala
Date: 3 April 2001
Healing Ridge
Life happens
at twice the rate of sound,
and we were caught up, my love.
Too much mine. Too much yours,
Not nearly enough ours,
not just for a night
to recharge batteries gone low,
but a week of nights,
a month of nights
till the slow, soft speed of time
dictated by sunrise and sunset
becomes the norm again.
That tiny cabin was never meant
to be just a get away---
but a place to share
not seconds---but a life.
Plans are well and good,
but i have packed a hamper
with grapes and bananas,
crackers and cheese,
a presumptuous little reisling
and a few loaves of french bread
with not merely crust,
but attitude.
And I have told the world
to go to hell,
left the phone at my place,
and pulled a houdini.
You are the only one who knows
where I am hiding.
Just know that I am not hiding
from you.
The door is open,
your key will fit,
and as I put together a fire
I am trying not to wonder
if the invitation I did not give
was understood.
I am wrapped tightly
in every night you loved me,
in every one of God's miracles we shared,
so deep in you
that I do not hear the scrape of the key,
cannot feel you draw close
until those arms nestle around my waist,
pull me near and dear,
and whisper softly in my ear,
"You called?"
And the healing begins,
in a touch that is love, and comfort
and the sweet benediction
of acceptence,
brings us both home for the healing
that is this house on the Ridge.
Back to the Heart-on-Sleeve Corner