by Cale Haven
That first day, when we were in love, was a very hot day; you'll remember how we set foot upon the road and noted how our shoes sank into the tarmac.
For me, that sinking never stopped. We were quicksanded, joined in bitumen and darkness. We were warm together, hot together, suspended--and yet we were one with the road.
That road took us through many places. We encicrled mountains, hugged rivers, cut through the fairy-tale woods and forests of lower Saxony. We were the journey, you and I. We were love in motion.
I didn't notice, at first, when your yearning to travel faded. I'm sure I was still caught up in my own business, still fascinated by the way we translocated.
But then, you said: "I need to be somewhere, not just go somewhere."
You plopped out of the road, out of the tar, and stood beside a house I did not recognise.
I wanted to pull you back. I shook with it; I swore with it and tore at myself for wanting it. But my trapped hands could not reach out.
Now the weather is cold, the surface is hard, and I could not break free if I wanted to. But there will come a time when the sun shines again. Then, when my journey is done, I will stand up for myself, arrive at another unknown place. I will look down at the road, and remember my love-melting for you and the journey you blessed me with.
Cale Haven splits his time between London and Newfoundland. He tends to write speculative fiction and occasionally (and, rather alarmingly) becomes a poet.
He blogs, more or less at: http://calehaven.wordpress.com
Pieces Inspired by this Image
'Neither Waving Nor Drowning'