You were drowning and
I called you back to life.
Across time, space, echoes
of sodden wave and foam.
Holding on from far
distant dreams, but still
connected, even though
you did not know it. It
was only later, when you
told me the story of how
you had nearly died: were
pulled inexorably into the
salted suck of sea, that I
understood why I had
been holding on, drawing
you back to the light, to
yourself, to the world
and to me. For that is
the power of love when
it connects across time,
distance, fear, doubts,
delusion and dreams.
The screaming force
of ocean is nothing by
comparison, although
we forget that truth
constantly. And yet,
in the corridors of
night I heard you call,
even as your mouth was
swollen with the fury of
the sea; heard it dance
upon the edges of my
distant dreams, in slow
crusted whispers of
fear. That call across
eternity and space, was
heard, is always heard
even from your mute
silence; your angered
disconnection, for the
depths of love can
never be drowned by
fear, doubt, suspicion...
I heard you call and still
I hear you call.
