The Buddha Picture
There was a picture of Buddha behind him
That heightened my first impression
It somehow seemed symbolic of his soul’s deepest desires
Symbolic of the utter restlessness yet security that his life represented
A simple guy
Yet highly dogmatic about the turning of our times
A bit morbid for me
A bit morbid for us
I longed for the moments when silence struck
Whether in the bustling city or secluded at the coast
To gaze into his eyes and ignite something
Something neither of us felt comfortable speaking about
My hand brushes through his reddish hair
Slightly adding to the messy fringes that were astray
There were no words to say
Words interrupted our natural rhythm
Of an otherwise peaceful connection
No need to define this divine selection
Expectations open the door for conformity
That which we repel
Yet neither of us can stop this vicious cycle
The past making headway where it doesn’t belong
The future lying dormant in our dreams
Just when I think he’s a stone cold sinner
He cradles my face with his hands and softly brushes the sand off of it
Grain by grain
As the arguments become more frequent
I look for the happiness in the smallest of places
In the tiny fragments of our eyes
As they lock in perfect unison
The touch of our hands
Full of a magnetic energy that I try to deny
I knew why his face was so sad
Why tears came streaming down
but not of my own creation
For a gentle smile would let me know that everything was okay again
That we would survive the pettiness that struck our core
That caused misunderstandings with no erase button
I’m not sure who you are
Some days I’m not certain I want to know
Yet something keeps me awaiting your voice
Awaiting your embrace
As I recite the words in my head that seem impossible
That seem to surge through me without choice
I choose to accept the undying fate
As I silently whisper….
Goodbye
Copyright © Rebecca Frank | Year Posted 2017
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