Jump

As much as I waffled on seeing the Brave Warrior, each ahn that ticked by tipped the scales further and further in one direction. All my nervousness and the weight of my decision kept pushing back further, and what kept floating to the forefront was the hope to see him. I wanted to see his eyes, to hear the male roughness of his voice, to watch his wisdom shade his features, to hear his poetic answers. And when one is waiting, the time seems to drag on forever.

And then he was there.

We sat on the platform of his wagon, me getting as close as I could with the links of chain stretched to their limit. I like to be close to him. There is this scent that clings to him that is not really a scent but simply the essence of him, and it is exciting and calming and thought provoking and arousing. It was one of those moments where I knew, I knew inside me with every thud of my heart what I wanted. I think I had for some time, really, but my mind likes to have everything in order before it concurs with my heart and soul. I had asked every woman I could find about their thoughts and beliefs, but I wanted one more survey. I wanted the thoughts of a man. I wanted - his - thoughts. I have noticed, when we have conversations we have several at one time. He doesn't speak alot, but what he says is laced with such clarity and understanding, and such import. We have the conversation that is spoken, and then we have the one that is not spoken. One that underlies, or hovers. There are the words he speaks that are taken at face value, only to be brought to mind later and thought upon, bringing even more to that simple exchange.

He has this firm grip on reality that I both admire and want to mess with at times. He allowed that the differences between a woman companioned and a woman enslaved tended to plague him, which relieved me immensely and I felt like I was not wading through murky waters alone. He was upfront with the common concepts, what is thought to make a woman feel vital and alive. There were, and are, some concerns that I have. I am a novice in the departments of men, and their pleasures. And, since I have been given the choice to give freely, I found it hard to profess a heart and soul so blindly. I also found it hard to understand why he would wish to own a woman, her life, direct her focus, without her heart. At the same time, that idea gave me immense comfort, since my heart and soul were still in the initial throes of fledgling feelings. Some things I think I said just to see how he would react. I think he knew that, for he charmed me right into professing my desire find out who he was, my want to stay, my foot poised over that bottomless precipice by offering to take me away.

Then he asked me why.

I was just coming to grips with the fact that I had dug inside and pulled my dreams out by their iridescent rainbow colored wings and laid them at his feet. Why? Because - I didn't want to go back. I didn't want to wonder if I had walked away from all I could ever hope for. I didn't want to live the rest of my life thinking of how it might have been. I didn't want to dream of how life might look through his reflection. I wanted to know. There are no guarantees, good or bad, I had to take that leap and take my chances. I was not the woman who had come searching earlier, too confused to actually ask for what she wanted. I wanted to know if this could be it...and I was holding my breath.

A woman and a little girl were there suddenly. When they arrived I couldn't be sure, for I was caught in the vortex of a whirlwind of life altering moment. He spoke to her with ease, shedding the seriousness of our conversation and I realized, how intensely he had been probing me. Perhaps, this was as intriguing and critical for him as it was for me. I was so wrapped up I hardly heard the conversation, until I realized the woman was concerned over the little girl. Sweet as candy, dressed in yellow, she played quietly nearby. It was then that I learned a little bit of what my Brave Warrior had been through that day that we met.

The death of friends and loved ones can not ever be easy. We grow used to them, in a million different ways. Without them, we have all these holes, open and raw, that we just don't know what to do with. The world, in cruelty and blessing, continues to turn, despite the fact that we are bleeding out all over. Shocked and numb, we move through the days, some needing to simply make a connection with another who is as numb as they are. Others, square their shoulders and take care of us all. I think the Brave Warrior had taken on the tasks of doing, for he made sure the woman and child were all right, taken care of, generous with everything he had. The truth, and the hope, is that eventually we reach out, finding a hand that helps the tender wounds. The Warrior had told me he didn't have his dreams anymore. Perhaps I was just meant to share mine.

Then he left, leaving me with a look that pierced right through to my insides. A combination of amusement and the promise of something I couldn't envision. I had the distinct feeling this was not over yet.


"So I'll be holdin' my breath
Could this be the end?
Is it that moment when"