wiseMusings

[Breathe.

Are you breathing?

Is the inhale

as deep as the

exhale?]

Sorry, I worry

about that

a lot.

I worry about you

a lot.

And let me confess:

when I got that text

from you

a few minutes before 1am,

I wasn’t breathing.

I was

stunned

and shocked into

silence.

Because

deep down,

I knew what your

block

meant.

I thought

it would be the

only form of

closure

I’d ever get.

Until it wasn’t.

I was relieved

that I got one

peek behind

your curtain

before you closed

it for the final

time.

And I replied,

but I didn’t answer.

There was so much

I wanted to say

in that text,

but the words

only came later.

I wanted to say

that it was a

shame

that your pain,

and your grief,

was the one obstacle

that constantly

kept us apart.

I wanted to say

that you hurt me

when you didn’t celebrate

my birthday

with me

like you promised to,

and you should have spoken

to me

when you knew you couldn’t

make it.

Your grief was an explanation,

but not an excuse.

I wanted to say

that love is reaching

out.

Love is communication.

Love is about more than

letting go when you

cause pain.

Love is also about

apologising and

atoning for past

mistakes,

even when you

think you ruined

everything.

I wanted to say

that I hope

you eventually

learn that.

I wanted to say

that there are books,

there are blogs,

there are words,

there are ways

that you can be better;

that you can start to

heal from it all.

I wanted to say

that even if you did

all those things,

even if you stocked your

place with journals

and saw a thousand

therapists,

it still wouldn’t be enough

if your heart is stuck in

the pain,

and the sadness,

and the heartache.

You have to want it

as much as I want it

for you.

I wanted to say

that it is funny

how you

offered your shoulder

as a place I

could always lean on

when my own power

failed me.

You were my friend;

my confidant;

my so-much-more-than-that,

but you wouldn’t allow me

to be that for you.

[Live.

Are you living?

Did you eat today?

Tell me you didn’t just

eat popcorn

and go to bed,

like you always do.

I hope you’ll stop

being so stubborn

and go to the doctor

for that pain

in your leg.]

I wanted to say

that I was wrong

for internalizing it all.

I wanted to help,

maybe a bit too much,

and I hurt myself

with the expectation

that I would help you,

or that I even could.

You sent me a song

called “Superheroes”,

and you said that

I was one,

because of what

I had overcome.

You forgot to include

yourself.

Don’t believe me?

You’ll discover the depth

of your superpower

when you overcome

the pain in your path.

And that’s a process

I can’t help you begin,

although I want to.

I wanted to say

that it’s better off

this way.

You had the courage

to do what I did for a

week,

but then rescinded.

I wanted something

you couldn’t give me,

and despite

all the good times

we spent

(and the picture of us

I’ll never delete),

I kept hoping.

And you kept saving me

from yourself.

Even that text,

I know full well,

was more about

my preservation

than yours.

I wanted to say

that our separation

is good

for now,

but not

for ever.

Because sometimes

we have to grow apart

to grow stronger together.

And I don’t know the

future,

but I dream of it quite often.

In every vision that fills

me with a deep

calm,

you’re in it.

Remember the place

where you took that picture

of us?

Right beside the school fence?

I imagine us taking

another one

in the same spot:

this time you’re wearing

that smile from the

Facebook screenshot

you sent me,

and you have your arms wrapped

around me,

protecting your person

with those

arms of yours;

my always-safe place.

In another one,

I hear a knock on

my door.

I open for you,

and all you can say is

“Zondi wami”

while you look at me

like I’m the treasure

you’ve been pining for,

and have finally found.

I wrap my hands around your

neck and start to cry

tears of elation

as you hug and hold me,

slowly spinning me

into the room

as we celebrate

that we’re together

again.

In yet another one

(and this is where I’ll stop),

I’m in a busy street.

Think Cambridge on a

Friday afternoon.

And I see you walking

with your friends.

You’re talking,

you’re laughing,

you’re looking at

something on one’s phone.

I smile with all of my

might

because

“oh my god

he’s found his smile again”

Then something tells you

to look on the other side.

And you see me,

and your smile grows larger

because you’ve found your joy,

just as it was meant to be

all along.

Those are some of

my visions

that I share with you,

like I want to share

it all with you.

The good & the grim.

The calm & the catatonic.

The sensual & the silent.

And I won’t deny

the charge

that maybe it’s

the whimsical

desires of fantasy

making me hold on

to a ghost.

But I suspect

that we were more

than that.

Your feelings

about me will

tell you the true story

much more than

any entanglement of

words I could

ever put together.

[Be.

Are you being?

How many times

a day

do you try and focus

on the people that love

you,

and want to see you

better?

I’m no longer part of

your cast,

but there are other

characters who

feel as I do about you,

because you’re lovable.

Know that.]

That 12-minute voicenote

I sent

that mildly

frustrated you

(and I get why, trust me)

was just

a taste,

a sample,

an appetizer

of what’s really inside.

I didn’t say enough in it.

I wanted to say

I’ll find the “great life

full of happiness and

success”

you predicted for me,

because I’m a

bad motherfucker

who goes after

what he wants.

But in many ways,

I’ll be right where

you left me.

And I hope you can

let go of your

limiting beliefs and

self-doubt enough

to meet me there

one day.

I wanted to say

I won’t stand in

the path that

will define your life

from here on out,

but if all roads do lead

to Nondaba,

I’m hoping you’ll

take that plunge

and claim the life

that’s rightfully

yours.

You deserve

the same

happiness and

success

that I do.

But maybe

you won’t get there.

Maybe our paths

have stopped crossing

forever,

and I’m still a beautiful

fool

holding on to fragments

of a once-great love.

Even so..

The last thing

I want to say

is that you love me,

and I love you.

No matter the destiny

or the destination,

no matter the future

or the fiction,

that much will

always be true.