When you finally realize you are loved

“She is a friend of my mind. She gather me, man. The pieces I am, she gather them and give them back to me in all the right order.” -Toni Morrison

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She loved me before
I knew myself.
Before I could love myself.

She loved me before
I could comprehend what love was
Stable and ever-present in the midst of my chaos
sure as the changing of the seasons
and sweet as the carefree laughs of a baby.

She loved me the way
the trees extend their branches
as gifts to the wind,
then breathe in the adulation.

She loved me before
I perfected hiding myself
for acceptance and ease.

She loved me before the world
tried to tell me
her type of love was inferior
to the love of someone
who never could love anyone but himself

She loved me before
my body became
a place of judgment,
betrayal,
and restrictions.

She loved me,
as soon as we saw each other
her glancing right,
I peeking left
and then into each other,
and there we saw ourselves.

She loved me—
not because there was no one else to love,
but because we were each other’s
gateway to freedom,
to an existence
that had no guardrails.

She loved me before I could stop her,
and she poured it
over every inch of me
that had been exposed
and damaged
revealing my good
after I had searched
so long to find it

and never could.

Her love is the instigator
of wide, deep laughs
that
shake the room
shelter my fears
and shift my life.

Our hugs become historical events
where our minds can wander and
re-remember every moment of compassion
that our brain callously forgets

She became the midwife
for tears of joy
that streamed down my face,
turned my mouth,
and filled my heart.

She loved me before I experienced
the mountain of struggle
and the valley of hurt
that was carved out of rejection
and abandonment.

She loved me
without wanting,
without demand,
without condition.

Her love filled me
in the way love feels to a mother
when her firstborn—
screams that first cry,
proclaiming its presence and power
making us all understand
that innocence and beauty still exists.

She loved me over
dancing
and decades,
deliveries
and divorce,
demons
and despair.

And there she is, still standing,
her head on my shoulder.
Finally, I am taking it all in—
how she stretched herself
so she could love me.

And with her, I am full.
Fully known
Fully myself.
Fully human.

I wrap her within myself,
as we have discovered
the love that only exists in our friendship,
the kind that carries us
across turbulent oceans
and human misgivings
to the shores of an island
we created with our embrace.

Because she loved me
before, then and now,
I have become helpless
in a connection that
could never be fully contained in the word friend

Her love is even more special than the word
sister
because we did not see each other coming
we were not forced
but found each other
chose each other
and stayed for
3 decades that
feels more like 3 lifetimes
and still counting

And as the seasons change and
the creases under our eyes grow deeper
the skin becomes less full
the bones of our faces become more prominent
and the hairs become silver.

We get lost in
the girls we were
the women we are
and the lessons we will become.

The only thing that remains is
how much she loved me before
change and
after time
and so all I can do now
is nothing
but love her forever.

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