The key is Leona Lewis and Spirit and what Ernest said when he said that he loves her music because she has an old soul. But that is not all. I have not found the words but am trying my hardest here, harder than I have wished to try in a long while because “It’s been the longest winter without you and I didn’t know where to turn to…” I do now. Because.
“My heart’s crippled by the vein I keep on closing.”
I have not listened to all the world’s sorrows and I’m no Mahatma but over the last few months I have listened to a few and shamefully participated in others that scar so that now I know I will never be who I was before I made this trip so many warned against.
My cup is brimful with experience and I’m burning my candle at both ends, the end does not breathe down my neck like a lover’s awakening breath or time’s winged chariot and I wonder if this is what they call the last fling, it does not feel so. I have heard and seen and been an intimate part of lives like I have never been, so engrossed in being I did not realise until after that I had become a part of them too.
All this does not make sense to you because I’m fumbling for a new language in a land that demands one as Arabic, Dinka, Swahili and Nuer become inadequate and I have become part of the corruption trying to become part of the redemption, following my nature to its extremist ends. The realization that where I have gone this time I might never be able to come back from is not a frightening thought anymore. Mental landscapes becoming physical.
“Their piercing sounds fill my ears with my doubt yet I know the goal is to keep me from falling.”
I have learned that you cannot save someone who does not want to be saved. I have learned that you can want to save someone with all your heart, all your energy, all your love; you cannot bring them back from ledges their souls are sworn to. I have learned that I drink Gilbey’s every night from a guilt adulthood and a decade cannot expunge. Murderers do not move craven faced among us, taking a life is not watching the whites of a dying man’s eyes show, your strangler’s fingers squeezing in the Adam’s apple of his neck. A red bed cover with sunflowers can repair ancient hurts, purchased in Konyo Konyo Market at an absurd un-negotiated exorbitant price atoning for thefts you will never tell, to a market woman your generosity left open mouthed and your driver slapped her butt with the promise that he would come back and you knew he would but you were not a part of that.
“Time starts to pass before you know it you’re frozen.”
So it all comes back to the things you have never spoken to anyone about. Everyone calls you beautiful souled, wondering why it is so hard for you to accept that you’re loved so much “but they don’t know the truth. I keep bleeding your love.” They don’t know how many times you have tried to stop thinking of her, they don’t know how many times you have told all your friends to leave you alone, go home, I’m not coming home, so you could stand the breeze chilling you, wondering it had to be her and after you have confessed all your most terrible sins the look of love burns brighter in her eyes and you have tasted the love of many but you will never taste her love because she in incapable of untruths and with her, and with her you’re incapable of untruth. Unable to forget her.
“I’ll be wearing these scars for everyone to see.”
I keep trying to go back to the beginning. I keep trying to understand what magic she wrought but all I do is, “I keep bleeding your love.” After when it should all be over, when I should not care anymore and why Marlon Brando allowed himself to become so obese becomes clearer but is no consolation in the vale of your tears. Taking risks you should you not and that you know you will never admit to her that you took because you took them to prove to yourself you did not care if you lived or died, like you used to before, but you’re not fooling yourself or her when she calls, demanding to a return to a manageable sanity you cannot thrive in but for her sake cannot wholly abandon.
“You see somehow I can’t forget you.”
This is my coming to an acceptance. That I will always love you. That you will always love me. That because I cannot change, you will never accept me for who I’m. That because I love you so much and understand why you love me so much, I cannot change. There will never be no more me and you, Juba taught me that, in my Now Voyager phase, learning lessons contained in your wistful glance, “I don’t care what they say, I’m in love with you.”