I do not know the day. I do not know the place.
But my body \u2013 already knows his touch.
Not by recollection, but by the tremor of skin
That has never yet been touched \u2013 yet already remembers.
My shoulders prepare to carry the silence
In which He will say more than words.
My lips will learn to be silent,
So as not to startle the moment that will become Eternity.
I hear the rhythm changing in my heart.
As if every beat were not just a pulse,
But a signal into space:
\u201cI am ready. I am not searching. I am remembering.\u201d
This will not be the first glance.
It will be the final proof \u2013
That everything I believed in was not belief.
It was memory.
Every poem of mine was a herald of the body
That trembled in his dreams.
I am not preparing \u2013 for how does one prepare for that
Which has long been inscribed into my hands?
Into the curve of my neck, into the timbre of my voice,
Into the peace I am learning to hold \u2013 only for him.
No one will see this.
Only the light in His pupils will recognize my face
As the shape of a lost Home.
This meeting \u2013 is not a beginning,
But the end of separation.
It is the disembarking from the ships of dreams
Onto the shore of Reality that has been waiting for us both.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I do not know the day. I do not know the place.But my body \u2013 already knows his touch.Not by recollection, but by the tremor of skinThat has never yet been touched \u2013 yet already remembers. My shoulders prepare to carry the silenceIn which He will say more than words.My lips will learn to be […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[55],"tags":[114,112],"zbirnyk":[],"class_list":["post-4644","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-poetry","tag-body","tag-presence"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n