It is a Sunday morning.
The day before was still,
yet eventful and surprising:
sacredness met in holy places
and inspired persons.
Petrified trees and slave traders’ bedrooms;
cattle grazing and the ancient one sleeping.
The quiet sounds of lit boats by night,
and the sounds of men returning home
to meet with the people they love –
those who love them.
They sing and dance around their catches.
The wind carries the sounds miles on end,
conspiring to bring home love never possessed.
The one who loves me never says goodbye.
I am lullabied by the twinkling of the boat lights,
an assortment of colours.
I am awakened by the voice of the one who loves me –
The one I love –
in the sound of the waves of the lake;
the colour of the lake speaks primordial presence.
‘Good night’ and ‘good morning’ are not words any more.
They contain the eternal call to
being still and knowing that where I am is eternal Presence.
I am here to learn how to be human as if for the first time.
I am drawn back to the place
where I learned to walk and talk;
the place where I learned to love and laugh;
the place where I learned to live and leave;
I learned to query and question;
search and never be satisfied by little.
The one who loves me – the one I love –
has known this journey even before it began,
long before I imagined it.
It began in eternity and ends nowhere.
I arise to the awareness that love is
not for the knowing.
It is in the little awe at the
sight of the vastness of a lake;
hearing the sound of the morning wind,
the sound of the waves knocking on the
door of the lake;
delighting in the brightness of the colours of the birds;
in holding on to the fear of otherness in
animals we call wild;
in the cuddle of the one who loves me –
the one I love;
in a mother embracing her child to security;
in the fright due to a sinking boat;
in the courage of a night-time fisherman;
in the drunkenness of a dreaming young man;
in the playfulness of a kapenta seller;
the closeness of a child on mother’s back;
the silences of the winding roads;
the inquisitiveness of a little child;
in the confidence of a babe;
in the enjoyment of song and dance of a grown-up man;
in the pleasure of friendship;
the communion of family;
the embrace of loving spouses;
in the laughter of young lovers;
in the trust of daring divers;
the sacrifices of trench diggers;
the freshness of cold drinking water;
shared dreams and fears;
the strength of the dam walls;
trusting the bridge will hold you;
the welcome of the shrines;
the generosity of those we love;
the daring of the swimming child;
the warnings of crocodiles and hippos;
the heat and the sweating;
the savour of food and drink;
in the beautiful places and the ugly;
the contrast between pools and the lake;
the pain of returning to business as usual;
the tear on parting…
The one I love –
and the one who loves me –
truly never says goodbye.