He walks the floor followed closely by the shadow cast from the dimly lit lamp on the desk. He has retraced his steps so many times, his footprints have left their mold in the Berber carpet. His palms are sweaty and the butter is churning in his stomach again.
You would think by now he would no longer get nervous, but butterflies have become his companion over the years. He has learned to embrace the fear because it keeps him humble and humility keeps him striving for greatness. Well, humility and her. He would not even be in this position had it not been for her.
He pauses mid stride and stares at the cloudy mirror on the wall. He tries to rehearse his piece but can’t make it past the first line without seeing her reflection in the mirror. The Japanese Cherry Blossom incense burning in the window draws him back to that first time. It was that very fragrance emitting from her neckline that made him look twice at her when she passed him by to take the stage.
The memory plays in his mind and he can feel her now as if her spirit was present. He stares in the mirror recalling how her brown eyes danced in the light like flames of raging fire. Her natural glory twisted and curled with that single spiral dangling over her forehead. Her soft red complexion had a glow underneath the house lights. He imagined if love had a color this would be it, and love is what he found when this beautiful redbone opened her mouth and started to speak.
Her words spoke to his soul and awakened his heart’s pen. It was at that very moment he fell in love with poetry and its vessel.
A knock on the door brings him back to reality. “It’s time,” they say.
He adjusts his tie in the mirror. She always loved to see him in a suit and tie. She would always tell him he looks like a king ready to be crowned. He moves slowly down the hall. He has taken this walk hundreds of times with her by his side, but today he misses her sweet voice whispering words of encouragement in his ear.
She knew how nervous he would be, but there was something so calming, so warming about her palm on his cheek and her kiss on his forehead. That kiss drove the butterflies away.
He walks on stage with no introduction. No need for an intro today because the audience is familiar. Faces of family and friends fill the seats. It has been so long since he shared his gift in his hometown. The road has kept him away, but the magnitude of this day’s events could only be done proper justice among those who know her best.
He approaches the microphone at center stage. His ritual calls for him to tie his shemagh around the microphone stand. Something he picked up years ago when he would open up for Black Thought on the east coast.
Never being one for bright colors, he would normally stick with blues and grays. However, today is a special occasion. Today he chose yellow because it is her favorite color. She told him yellow reminds her of daisies. They were her mother’s favorite flower. Her mom passed before she met him, but she was the embodiment of her. Judging from photos he saw on her nightstand, she inherited her mother’s smile.
That smile. It always gave him life. He could write a thousand poems on just that smile. It was his refuge, his confidence, his inspiration, his light. He could use that smile right now but the room is too dark to see it. He draws strength instead from the permanent image of it engraved in his mind.
He grips the microphone tightly. His stomach has tightened and he can feel his throat squeeze as if the weight of the world was dropped on his neck. The heaviness in his chest is too much for his knees to carry and he feels as if they are going to buckle under the pressure.
He has known nervousness but this is something new. Something beyond mere butterflies. His head feels ten times lighter as his mind floods with tears he refuses to let leak through his eyes. His heart darted with doubt. Maybe this isn’t the right time. After all, these words he is about to speak should have be spoken months before now.
It wasn’t that he didn’t plan to. He had known from the very first moment her eyes met his that she was his purpose, his destiny. His proposal to her was in the making before they shared their first caramel macchiato in Cannes, or took their first walk down the blue water filled beaches of Nassau. His proposal was formed before their lips met for the first time under the sunset on the horizon of South African skies. He knew from the beginning she was his wife, but the timing was never right because his words opened doors that kept him on the road.
He reassures himself if he doesn’t speak now, he will never get the opportunity again. Suddenly he sees her. Her natural glory twisted and curled with that single spiral dangling over her forehead. Her soft red complexion glowing the same color of love. He knows this is right.
He closes his eyes and speaks….
“When GOD created me, He created you simultaneously; and although our sexes are opposite, our souls are carbon copies. Traced and outlined by GOD himself. With a pen dipped in His blood on a scroll pressed from His love. A permanent documentation of this Holy union He created. One that can never be altered by the words of a man. Or fictitiously forged through the lips of another woman. No, this certificate of love was signed by God, witnessed by Jesus and delivered by His Holy Spirit. Therefore it is official. So for me to pursue this love with anyone but you would be forgery. A crime punishable by death, and truth is without you I’m dead anyway.
Connected on more than a physical level because physicality and sexuality were birthed out of this divine reproduction that occurred when our hearts connected. So although my eyes are astonished by your flawless God crafted frame, my attraction to your body is just the mere offspring created from the seed of love GOD used to fertilize my heart. Yes, this love runs deep.
So you question why when I look into your eyes the only thing I see is me? Well it’s said that the path of one’s soul is through the eyes and since your soul is a mirror image of mine, it’s only natural when I get lost gazing into your eyes I end up finding myself.
Yes, when God created me, He created you simultaneously. My hemisphere. I’m incomplete unless you near. Three hundred and sixty degrees. We are joined at the rib and share the same heart. Fused together by GOD, so till death do us part.”
He takes a deep breath and removes the purple ring box from his coat pocket. He opens it and reveals the yellow diamond ring she used to hint at when they would stroll the shops out in London.
The familiar faces in the crowd wipe their eyes and stands to their feet in expectation of what’s next. He descends the stairs of the stage to where his future rests. The emotion in his heart battles his pride as he tries to hide the tears, but there is no stopping them now. He is all but overcome by her love.
He removes the ring and grabs her hand. To him it is as warm and calming as it has always been.
He slips the ring on her finger and leans down to whisper in her ear. “You are my air. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”
He looks down at his love with an almost joyful anticipation of her response. He looks down at his love. He kisses her forehead the same way she kissed his a thousand times. He looks down at his love.
He finally finds the strength to release her hand. He steps back and watches through tear stained eyes as they close the casket. His looks down at love.
Becoming Writer 2016 Anniversary Contest 