She’s beautiful. She saw me attractive and loved my demeanor. I wasn’t rich. Couldn’t boast of much. But she fell in love with me. I loved her too and very much wanted to be with her.
So I asked and she said yes. It was all sunshine and rainbows and butterflies. Months seemed like days and hours…,
…like a few seconds. We were each other’s worlds. I told her I loved her and she told me she loved me.
A thought of me would put such a beaming smile on her pretty face. We could walk the fields, sit by the streams, lock hands and never want to let go. Her eyes gave her away. I was her champ. I told her I loved her and she told me she loved me.
But life happened! The pressures mounted and I began to change. It was hard for her but she was not moved. She talked about it. I didn’t hear a thing. Survival was my obsession. She didn’t matter that much anymore. The little faults I overlooked earlier had become humongous mountains and the object of my most fiery frontal attacks. But I told her I loved her and she told me she loved me.
Days had become nights and the grass had withered. Her bones were dry. Eyes, tired from constant sobbing. Was it a desire to see me transformed? Or an expression of the pain she felt? Or was it a regret of a wrong choice? I cannot tell. I felt it was all part of the test. I told her I loved her and she told me she loved me.
I had pulled on the strings of life. I had carved a name for myself. Attempted impossible feats. Traveled the world. I came back home. She wasn’t at the door to welcome me. I looked for my sweetheart. I couldn’t find her.
But there in the distance. Far in the horizon; almost disappearing with the fading rays of the sun. There she stood. I told her I loved her. I screamed it out so she could hear.
I can’t see her anymore. She’s gone. Like the wind. The memories start flooding in. I’m sinking. I need her now. With whom will I share my life and to whom shall I plead my cause? Who will hear my cry?
Was I not worth fighting for? Was I really a lost cause; a hopeless case? I will never see her again. I will never know her pain. I will never really truly know…
But I see more clearly now. The scales have fallen off. And I have come to know that I cannot trust myself in anything. In my own strength, I am nothing. So I will live on my knees; in humble prayer and fervent praise, to the Lord God of Heaven. My Rock and Salvation. In His hands, I’ll leave my heart. And if I get a second chance with another heart ever again, I will take it where mine is…
…because that is where it truly belongs…
In his hands, my heart will find the strength and wisdom to handle her with care and love, with strength and patience. In his hands she will be as graceful as a doe, strong, loving, forgiving and enduring. This is where love finds true meaning and a heavenly expression.
A memorial of the past still stands. Not as a source of regret but as a constant reminder of how far I can fall if I depend on my own navigational tools to sail the course of life.
I will wipe the tears and give praise and thanks to the Great and Mighty God who orders all things after the counsel of His good will and look to the future with hope and great faith knowing that all is well…
… In his hands.
Prince A. Poku. © April 2019.