Yes, Beautiful

We stumble.
Stumble and flutter, like
birds against a pane of glass.

"It's full of rocks. Blue things,
little blue things, everywhere. You can see them,
you can taste them. Blue."

I hold her hand and nod,
trying to dive into her mind, just a little.
Her eyes pleading with me, pleading.

We flounder.
Thrashing around, flailing for a saving grace to grab in these
deep waters, and neither of us can swim.

"Have you seen her?
They're up on the hill.
There upon the hill, I think they're all dead now."

I offer her more of what I have to give, and say
the prayers that rise like smoke.
She refuses, as she always does.

The languages we speak are similar,
but there's no real translation for the way we feel.
My head hurts like my heart does.

Stumble and flutter, flounder and flail.
This ache, this ache, it has no relief.
I know inside her is a torrent of life, waiting for me to open the gate.

Helpless. Both of us.
"No, I don't want any of that. Not anymore.
I'm so tired, honey, and it's full of rocks."

We sit side by side, and I wonder. Yes, I do.
But then something happens,
something good.

Her eyes clear, like a fog lifting from the ground.
Her hands clasp mine, and she smiles.
"I love you," she says.

I love you, too.



I guess that's why we keep stumbling, she and I.