Safe.

12.03.2020

The wind is howling outside, the skies are drearily grey and it's immensely cloudy. The rain is torrentially pattering on the walls outside, and the earth is being flooded after hours and hours of this merciless downpour.

And there is nothing to do. The power is cut and so is the water supply. All we can do is light up some candles and lay down on the couch, still and quiet, listening to the real world orchestrate its power, for once ignoring the virtual stream of happenings.

On such days, I don't feel safe. Such storms remind me of painful memories; ones in which I have witnessed the loss of ones so dear. The rains remind me that something difficult is about to happen, perhaps the clearing before a significant transformation. Yet, that doesn't stop it from being formidable. I look at you as my chest clenches, smiling feebly, watching you fixate your gaze upon your fingers, crossed on the blanket. I wonder what you're thinking about.

And like always, our magical connection allows our eyes to find each other. You sense my insecurity and I feel your indifference; your heart chasing something to hold on to. At that moment, we are opposite poles of the spectrum of emotions; I feeling all the dimness in the world and you recollecting all the pieces, trying to guide yourself through this.

The shy, insecure side of mine doesn't want to disturb you. You probably need some time alone, to think, and this peace and quiet is the best time for you to gather your bustling ideas and connect them into a gushing stream of cooperative notions, helping one another. I look down at my own fingers, but I feel so.. powerless. I feel so small, empty and alone, and I'm lost for words. This grayness outside has shifted into my soul, so my face turns pale and I lose the appetite to challenge my will.

But then, now that you're here, I don't have to be alone. For many years, the dream of having you near me was enough to at least get me through those times of loneliness. But this dream is a reality now, and it's not something I should be taking for granted. So, I gather the scattered pieces of the heart I know back and take a few steps towards you. I hold your hand, caress it with all my might and flailing strength. I want to tell you that I'm thankful you're here. I'm grateful that there is warm skin to hold and a heart so sweet like yours to love. And because you understand me so well, you tell me to stay close, so I do.

I put my face on your chest and rest. Here, my sadness flows far away. This sweet proximity we share is a blessing, even if we are silent. Even if all we have for now are our confused patterns that we still do not understand. I allow my fingers to hold your hand, and you hold mine. I want to tell you about my stories; exactly what had happened that stormy August evening years ago, when my eleven-year-old self got scarred for the very first time, experiencing a loss so shattering. I want to tell you about how unloved I felt, how it felt like the world was punishing me, how I thought I would never have a choice.

But I have a choice. I can choose to forgive the past. I can choose to love. I can empower myself with that heart of mine, the only thing I know. I clutch your hand and tell you I'm safe with you. You smile, and it's like sunshine has come again through the windows. I tell you to open up to me; talk, find your voice. I'm here and I'm listening. 

If this will make you feel safe, too, my dear.

- the dreams that come to me on a dark, stormy day in March -