Beloved

Things began slowly, several years ago. I composed this when trying to make sense of things.

Endlessly searching out,
Snuffling, sniffing,
Where has He gone?
I howl my frustration,
Echoes call back.

Too long without Him,
The holder of my heart;
So many nights spent
Writhing, contorting,
Bleeding.

Crying out in pain,
Lost to all else.
Holding on,
that little bit more.

Slowly, so slowly
I feel
Hands, (comfort)
Arms, (protect)
I quiet.

More
Heartbeats (alive)
Tears (tears?)
whimper (tightening)
Blind, nearly deaf

He holds me
Agonised, cries out
Tormented, howls in grief
Pain unites us,
breaks down the illusions

How did I not
Hear Him?
Feel Him?
Sense Him?
Taste Him?
See Him?

This tender, fierce, protective Heart
Knows me,
Yearns for me,
Cares for me,
Cries out when I hurt,
More when I do it to myself.

In these arms I am Home,
I heal,
I am treasured,
Never has it been otherwise.

He holds me,
I hold Him,
Even
When senseless,
Hurt, broken.

We cry out as one,
Move together as one,
No echo, but answering calls.
Tears turn to laughter,
Mirthful bells.

His tears wash me,
cleanse me,
strengthen me.
Helplessly, I watch;
He never falters,
nor hesitates.

How long has it been thus?
How many times?
I do not know;
It has never been otherwise.

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