Saga of The Lover

In her dream, The Lover meanders around with only a pen and a sheet of paper trying to find the light switch in a dark room. Naked, she stumbles over an overturned table; set in what she believes to be the middle of the room, banging her shins. More pain. The room is full of black-clad ghosts that swirl and bob all around her. Their ghoulish shrouds brush her face, her arm, her back, her feet. She is afraid.

This is what life is like since Kitty went away. James Weldon Johnson can relate. He says “seems lak to me dat ev’ything wants you”. Everything wants Kitty. The Lover’s heart cries for her, eyes look for her—lingering too long on the picture she cannot part with. One of her favorites is a picture that was converted into a screen saver on her phone, taken while they were on vacation in Jamaica last December.

The Lover had not felt such a sense of contentment as she did then, and the expression on her face, in the foreground of a brilliant blue ocean with frothy white waves, confirmed it. Finally, The Lover knows love and it sustains. Or so she believes.

NoBlue_Ridge_Mountains_Sunsetw The Lover is trying to write with no muse, dance with no music, and live with no dream. When one winter day Kitty makes her announcement that she is leaving. The Lover decides to take the high road and gives Kitty her freedom. The Lover resolves to love despite the dagger of pain in her heart at their parting. She ignores Kitty’s desire to be with someone— anyone—else as Kitty leaps at the chance for freedom.

The Lover is alone, numb, naked, vulnerable, ashamed, angry, defensive, vindictive, abandoned, and foolish. She is sad for wanting her beloved companion Kitty. But Kitty is gone, and The Lover cannot listen to music for failing to hold back tears. Real tears, that in the most inappropriate moments and places, flood her eyes and blind her—temporarily.

She looked
then leapt,
taking my tender heart
leaving the rest

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