He asked his daddy how to know he had loved,
Not for evidence that he was in love for that is a different thing,
But for evidence that he had loved,
And his father said the evidence is in the scars son,
The evidence that you have loved is in the scars,
Show me your scars of love and I will know you have loved,
And he proceeded to tell a true story!
“He looked at her,
And shook his head,
She wondered why,
So he told her how,
How he had waited,
How long his wait was dated,
How he had been there,
How he had proposed,
And with the delicacy and precision of a surgeon,
He dissected the details of how he had been rejected,
Multiple times like an incompatible tissue graft,
He described how every “NO” had painfully tugged his heart,
And brought him to a place where he hoped it wasn’t meant to be,
Because he couldn’t imagine the journey back,
With all the milestones and reminders along the way,
He could not imagine making the journey to that first day,
When he looked at her,
And his heart took a leap,
And did a rhumba dance within his breast,
He could not imagine making the journey back to the place,
When she last said ‘No’ maybe for the umpteenth time,
And his rhumba dancing heart fell with the weight of lead,
He pursed his lips and forced an awkward smile on his face,
Took her hand and fixed a gaze on her eyes,
Wondered why she was back,
As his mind wandered and wondered if he is the spare,
His tear glands opened,
And a river of tears peacefully streamed down his cheeks,
Barely able to speak,
He spoke these difficult words:
‘you ask something impossible of me,
I have been there with you many times,
And nothing about that place appeals to me or calls my name,
Anymore…’
Then after an agonizing pause of screaming silence:
‘I love you and will always do,
I know empirically that while love is never meant to hurt,
It does hurt sometimes,
We both have too much baggage along that path,
I believe sometimes, like now, the painful “NO” is the loving thing to do,
Even though it ached my heart…'
Then slowly and deliberately and delicately,
As if afraid that it will fall off her body he left her hand,
Hugged her as if he will never see her again,
With the weight of the enormity of the decision weighing on his shoulders,
He dragged himself away,
Feeling lighter as he went further,
Towards the seas of boundless opportunities,
Determined to dare to love again,
Convinced that he had done the right thing for love,
For many many many times the proof of love is in its scars,
Remember a scar is the sequel of healing of the wound”
© Houston, October 2013 afesehngwaHilary
