The written loom

Talitha…

I don’t know if this is my last letter, or my first ending..

I no longer write for you to hear me, I write because otherwise I’ll forget how to exist..

Two years have passed. Two! And with each day, your silence grows harder.. More absolute.. More… empty..

Once you spoke, and your breath kept me alive.. 
But since then… nothing.. 
Not a sign, not a whisper in the water, nor a dream..
Not even the Lady of the Lake, who once gave me signs, touches me now..
Or she punishes.. Or she protects.. I don’t know..
And I’m tired of guessing..

I miss you so much, my body begins to forget your shape..

Only sometimes.. when it rains, or when the light slants across the floor, then you return..
For one breath.. Just long enough to disappear again..

I spoke to you with faith.. With gratitude.. With silence..

And now I speak with grief..

Where are you?
Why didn’t you come, if only for a murmur?

I needed to know I wasn’t mad.. That all this… wasn’t just me..

And now… tell me.. 

If all of this was nothing but me.. then what are you? Memory? Mirage? A necessary lie to keep going?

If you are truly there, and you still remember me… Come back.. Just for a word.. A shadow.. A drop..

And if you cannot.. then send me Forgetfulness.. Let her come.. Let her take you from me, because your memory burns..

I cannot keep casting letters into the lake, and watching even them drown..

This letter, you may never receive.. 
You may no longer care to..
Perhaps you were never there at all..

But I…
I loved you so much, your pain became my only homeland..

And this is my last letter..
Or the beginning of my silence.

P.

What do you do when no letter is enough?
You stop writing… and start composing..

Next: Paul turns to music. But when his fingers stall on the keys, someone else returns to guide them. Four hands. One melody..