A night on the moor

I slept, but my heart was awake.

A sound! My beloved is knocking.

“Open to me, my sister, my love,

my dove, my perfect one,

for my head is wet with dew,

my locks with the drops of the night.”

I had put off my garment;

how could I put it on?

I had bathed my feet;

how could I soil them?

My beloved put his hand to the latch,

and my heart was thrilled within me.

I arose to open to my beloved,

and my hands dripped with myrrh,

my fingers with liquid myrrh,

on the handles of the bolt.

I opened to my beloved,

but my beloved had turned and gone.

My soul failed me when he spoke.

I sought him, but found him not;

I called him, but he gave no answer.

The watchmen found me
as they went about in the city;
they beat me, they bruised me,
they took away my veil,
those watchmen of the walls.

I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
if you find my beloved,
that you tell him
I am sick with love.



S.O.S. 5

Cuddle Weather

Under your arms, sir.

That's where I find my rest.  Be it the breaking of day, after your long and unending battle against fire, illness, and lack of sleep.
Or after we are through with the gym, both sweaty and quite a mess.
Maybe in the winter, in the snow, in far-off places and open Northern skies and low Fahrenheit so foreign to our Texas-born love.
Or in Summer, when it's too hot to hold hands in the back of your truck at the drive-in.

My place, my point of being, my life -
When I can finally breathe again, and forget the rest of the world's noise
And calm my own breath to the steady beat of your heart,
Astounded by the simplest things.  Coffee in the morning, shelves full of unread books, little kitty paw-pads outside my bedroom door, mass on Sundays, and your arms...

Always returning there.  Your arms, sir.
My arms.

Golden Flicker

I am at peace tonight.

My room is candle-lit, with a few twinkle lights behind my four poster bed.  It drips with romance, with hope, with the songs the new year is just learning to sing.

I am in love.

Deeply, passionately in love.
This love drives me onward to betterment, with eyes towards heaven.
This love comforts me.  It dries my tears.  It is a tea and books in the rainy afternoon sort of love.  It fits me.  It suits me.

Jesus has opened His heart and shown me Christopher.
He's opened His arms and given me Christopher to hold me.
He's held out His hand as Christopher has walked with me, hand-in-hand, through these days and into His Church.  Just like I prayed for years ago.

What a beautiful, grand, messy life I have.  What a friend I have in Jesus.
What a kind, gentle, cheeky lover I have.
Well met, sir.