Pilgrim

It Was a Lifetime of Waiting

The story
began in the middle.
In other words, the middle
was its beginning.
And there you were waiting for me
in the rain, a soldier.

You leaned against a grey wall
, red carnations resting in your
arms, like a garland. To say th
at I felt love would perhaps be
sentimental, so I didn’t say, “I
love you”. I had to think about
my words even with them sticking in my head.

I said, instead, “I often thought of you.”

You were a magnet.
I was pulled toward you
where tears and
raindrops mingled, warm
on a summer’s day.
Up on a hill,
looking down on our meeting,
St. Mary’s, in her beauty.

That moment was pinnacle.
It was a prayer.
I will not forget the taste of
salt water on my lips.