Everyone knew them. The whole city knew them; clamoured to witness their epic love, wanting front row seats to be in the presence of Love beyond love.
Everyone wanted to be in their arena, these two women in achingly ferocious love, wrapped gently around and in each other, crazy sameness, passionate differences, incited by the rings of each other’s orbit, the core of each other’s being.
Everyone held their breath as they watched them walk close, holding hands, wandering together through clouds, over water, through trees and in dreams and talking, foreheads touching, about the thing that happened; everyone noticing that it happens the next day, which is not possible. Is it?
Everyone sighed. With them all things seemed possible. Them together. Words beyond words. Thoughts shared as they formed. For seven years it was them, and then life’s fork in the road, the one that demanded a choice or perhaps a sacrifice.
For seven years it was them and then it was not. They were in free fall that didn’t feel free at all. Life tangled and warped and spiralled around them. They dug in, hiding in their different corners, unable to see each other. They fell into the ground, defeated. Announcing Love, Impossible. They would no longer be.
Everyone left. There were tears for a year. There are tears still.
Time has passed. The city is quieter now. Lonelier without them. They’ve each moved away to other countries. Other lovers. They say hello on occasion. Ask after each other through mutual friends. And yet? And yet. Everyone says there’s a love sutra, the threads that stretch between those souls who’ve been cleaved from each other. And yet. There is an ocean between them.
At certain times the threads vibrate; when their thoughts wave to each other in dreams that vanish before morning, snippets of which reverberate as they make their morning tea. When they look out the window to see another world that wanted to be. But hearts defeated have swift access to Mind and once called, Mind closes the door as she starts to wonder about Her, a world away, as she starts to furrow her brow to wonder about Love, Impossible. Mind takes her elsewhere, somewhere safer.
What I have given you,
will never be a burden,
what I gave you
was always yours,
the flower or the wood,
the word or walls,
food of fleeting
love, resting or burning
in our hands.
I gave you,
all I give you,
all I extend to you,
will contain this secret
Sonnet, by Pablo Neruda