How I Think of You
When I’m Alone…
Friday, May 8th, 2009
I think my world is empty
without you in it.
I often hear your voice -
sometimes a snippet of a recent conversation,
but mostly just the echo of how you sound,
not so much the words.
It is the way I hear your gentle whisper in my ear
when your lips are very close,
the sound so quiet,
a person two feet away
could not decipher your secret message.
It is the feeling of your voice.
The sense of what it feels like when we’re close.
It is your presence,
and I can feel your breath.
Sometimes I get a flash,
a passing picture of your head
tilting to the left or right,
the way you throw your head back gently
when you’re laughing,
the fun belly gut laugh
that gives me so much joy to hear.
I think of the moments
when I remember holding you,
when you have cried and sobbed in my arms,
and I just held on until the very last drop
until you fell asleep or
until the heaves of breath subsided.
I think of your skin the way it smells.
the way it wrinkles gently with a certain touch,
as if in preparation for the next…
the apprehensive quiver of anticipation of
electric skin;
the way my hands can sense the slightest
ripple of reaction or contraction with almost no physical contact.
Those hands of mine are pretty smart when it comes to your skin.
I see you running to me with your arms wide open,
with your succulent heart and laser eyes,
I hold you close and smell your hair
and for half an hour,
you are my air.
I hold your fingers in my hands
and touch every single place
on every digit with the tip of my index finger
for an hour…
How do I think of you when I’m alone?
I sit and look at you for hours
from the back when you are reading,
or scripting at the computer
or from the side to see your spralling beauty
as you sleep quietly,
playing wrap around pillow games with your knees.
I see the kindness in your eyes when you speak
and the love in your eyes and heart when you touch
or when you hold a little Christa
or an Emma
or a Lindy
I think of walks along the beach
at Trainer in New Jersey
and private Wildwood moments.
walking around the lake at Tarva
golden memories
in the master Covey bedroom
and the kitchen
enjoying Isagenix shakes and salads
and working side by side computing
sharing joy of quiet and aloneness
And in the master bath
I feel the shower on my skin
as I lather your back
and legs
and stomach with the soap
and feel the warmth
and soothing security
of water turning Holy in your presence
I think of eating Sunday breakfast
on our final day at Long Branch
the very week we met
and how easy words could flow between us
through intermingled comfort in the air
How do I think of you when I’m alone?
I hear every word we left unsaid
each time we went away angry
without resolution
and the lingering anguish
of unforgiven thoughts
or the unspoken words that needed saying
how empty it feels
to not have had the strength
and sense of present moment
in the living
to honor love
when the chance was there
and only now
to think and speak alone
the unthought and unspoken
thought and word
that would have been so easy
How do I think of you when I’m alone?
I think of you beside me
With wonder in the air
living every moment
and living every share.
I see us loving deeper yet
in realms unknown by most
I see us letting go
and letting go again
walking in alignment
in the garden of our joy
until the horizon of our life
and you and me are one.
by Michael Barrett
(c) Copyright 2009
