Page 213 - Dark Matter Women Witnessing

What was our story, yours and mine? The drama the conflict the turning point the

dénouement? We fell into rhythms and whole months disappeared into them. By

“disappeared” I don’t mean that anything was lost. It continued, we continued, the fabric

went on being woven, threads of love spun—that’s how I took you into me.

No drama to mark our days, months, years together. Only constant repetitions, day in

day out. You were always my first thought in the morning. My rising would rouse you.

Over and over I fill the bowl I open the window, I listen for the sound of you scratching to

be let back in. Over and over I sit on my cushion and you come join me, circle around

me, let your body drop against my folded legs.

Over and over we soak in, we give thanks. You taught me that. How to rest in the

moment. How to give ourselves over to. . .rapture. Among the plants. Above the

burnished floor. Beside the green-leaved window.

This is life, Gracie, just this, I felt myself saying to you, over and over, and in your

silence and your soft purring I heard you agree. And it's nice like this, it's good like this,

just this. Isn't it?

Yes, yes.

*Originally published in Descant#143, Winter 2008