She Heard My Prayers

To the one who always listens,

You remember, don't you?

The nights I spoke your name into salt and silence,

hands open, heart trembling for something real.

You were the only one I trusted with my deepest desires.

Every word I spoke rose like a breath to you.

-

When he found me, I knew you'd heard.

You'd tugged the strings in the fabric of time,

bringing him to me.

He looks at me the way you look upon the ocean:

softly,

knowing the depths,

and loving them anyway.

Now, each time I see your face, I turn to him and say

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

and he smiles,

as if he can hear you answering.

-

I've left you offers in wine and tears,

chocolate and precious gems,

in laughter spilling through an open window,

in the quiet ache of searching for my escape.

You have been my silent witness

to the cost of love, and what it gives in return.

You watched as I learned gentle love,

rather than worshipping an infected wound,

to let your tides carry me home.

-

Tonight, I offer you one more precious thing:

a thank you,

written in the quiet rhythms of his sleeping breath.

You led me to peace,

and I am still your child,

kneeling with my knees in the snow,

silvered and grateful,

bowing to the cold embrace of your light.

With love,

the one who still looks up