The Man Who Wasn't There

He ran with the passing storm.

I found her sitting on the beach,
Her eyes red, her tear-stained face now dry.
She reached out her hand, pulled me down.
We talked about life,
Of little boys whose fingers twirl in your hair and whose hands clutch at your heart,
Of older girls just starting life, dating, loving for the first time,
Of scenes of majestic beauty by the sea, in the frozen north, at the plains of Eden,
Of kindred spirits found serendipitously.
At sunset I arose, lifted her up,
It had been a beautiful day.
One of many.

One time
She heard his voice
Brought in by the whispers of the wind.
She ran down the beach, towards the place where they used to meet,
Searching.
But the wind died, the voice seemingly expired.
When she came back,
She put her arms around my waist.
We grew closer still.

I began to build a castle by the sea,
Each brick placed carefully on the one before,
Each brick fired in my hopes and dreams.
I could envision
Her talking to my mother, both smiling, staring in my direction,
Her hugging my daughter, listening to heart wrenching sobs, sharing her own past, loving,
Her grandson, a man, running his fingers through her silken hair,
Her son, the prodigal, returning to a feast, the faithful son at her side, both beaming,
Family gatherings with the clans,
Two spirits watching the trees sway in the breeze, or the sunrise over the ocean, or from a balloon high above the earth,
Her head on my chest, our legs entwined, our souls woven together,
Hot, wet, sweaty, steamy, exhausting marathons of sex, engulfing us, draining us,
Nights, mornings, days, weeks of foreplay, building lusty, aching, painful desires which burst in uncontrollable orgasms.
The castle had a dungeon, soundproof, dark,
With its cuffs, restraints, swings, instruments of pleasure.
Knowingly, she saw, smiled, radiant, full of love, and want, and need.
For the first time,
Ever,
The drawbridge to the residence of my heart was completely lowered.
She entered, and by my side began to lay bricks of her own.
It seemed to me
The castle I was building
Gleamed brilliantly in the light of the Son.

The summer passed.
The castle was nearly finished.
The storm season I had foreseen was coming.
Then
The Man Who Wasn't There
Came back.
The storms raged.
Hurricane-force winds ripped at Us.
The tide surged, pulling at her with terrible force.
Waves crashed thunderously upon the beach.
The castle I had built
Was exposed to have
Its foundation in the sand
And in an instant
The walls I had built so painstakingly, lovingly, brick by brick,
Came crashing down.

After the storm
I saw her on the beach
Her arms wrapped around the neck
Of The Man Who Would Be There
While I
Clambered for the rocky cliffs above
Searching in vain
For a single brick to begin rebuilding anew.

A free-form poem submitted for the 2009 Survivor poetry contest.