Away

She went away, like a storm, or like a toy boat caught in the current of a stream. That's what I tell myself now. How or why doesn't matter anymore, only that she went away, and forever. She's gone. Irretrievable. Found her way to some distant sea. I don't know. All I know is she's gone, and I am still here. I wished and hoped she'd come back, but she never did.

How did she move on? And so quickly? How did she run so fast so far so silently? Did I drive her away? Did I say something, do something, be something? I don't know. All I know is she left. Or was drawn away. All my attempts to draw her closer resounded pitifully and hollowly, like I was speaking to an empty forest or myself or a dark sky. 

I hear her voice in the rain sometimes, in the pitter-patter of raindrops on the roof. It's like she's still there, or just visiting, but I know it's only my imagination. I tell myself she's just checking in to see if I'm okay, and then I smile myself to sleep. I keep telling myself my odd imaginings aren't an illness, but we all know I'm beyond sick, forever broken, and lost.

If I tell myself she hated me and left hastily, does it make it easier to bear her absence? Perhaps. If I tell myself she loved another and never loved me, does it help me let go? It's possible. Does it matter what I say or don't say when my heart believes an unreality? Does anything matter at all when all one wants is love and cannot have it? Well, I will have it, even if it is only me loving empty memories, embracing the wind, such as it is. 

Tell this naked, burning heart to be quiet in the night. Tell it to silence the very thing keeping it alive, and I guarantee, it will burn hotter and beat louder. Will it make her come back? Will it revive something dead and gone and forgotten? Will it do anything but lead me down the same broken roads to the same dead ends? I don't know. Without love, what is a man? Is he even a man, or is he an animal, or no better than the grass that grows and withers under the sun? 

Away. She went away. That's all I know. I will never know why or where or how or anything. Lying to myself is perhaps the only recourse. Does a storm need explaining? Does the wind need an explanation? Is there any sense in knowing anything at all? Life moves on, and sometimes without us. I may as well question the great, knowing hands of God. But there is significant wisdom in simply accepting, regardless of the reasons. I cannot change the waves crashing on the seashore or the wind that howls in winter. And I cannot change the fact that she went away. 

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I would appreciate your prayers. I am on the cusp of a big decision, which came to me in my sleep the other night and which has been on my mind for years. It's hard to move forward when it feels like you are so stuck. Also, I have a rather large and involved post (maybe the largest ever) coming up involving about a hundred different things. I know, it's a lot of work for something no one will likely read. Call me Sisyphus. 

Thank you for reading, and God bless.

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