By Donna

It’s Friday night.
And Church tomorrow.
Normally a time for arranging church things—
bible placed in the matching handbag,
usher gloves lay neatly next to
lace over satin white dress,
on the right side of the bed
anxiously wait their moment to be displayed.
But tonight there is something different;
tonight something's changed;
tonight’s wonderful
happened after the third call today…
he made her laugh out loud.

Both a long way from home.
Holding traditions
because it is their way;
ackee coupled with
equal parts salt fish,
the stew-peas never ever
to be paired with rice and peas,
Christmas-time rum cake,
the ginger infused sorrel
with a splash of overproof rum,
and their unwavering affinity
for just those things.
The familiar;
like looking at her mirrored self,
this new friend has traits of home.
And it wasn’t the surprise gift
in the mail that sealed it,
but rather the confirmation in her faith
that a considerate kind man
can see her.

This connection
a welcoming distraction
to the long days filled with routine.
She wanted him to be excessive—
like sprinklers watering grass
in the pouring rain.
Craving the attention that shaves
off loneliness and dullness,
like shaven ice
prepared for the snow cone
offering pleasure of
colors that brighten cloudy days
and flavors that deliver goodness.

The clock roots for their
December December romance;
nudging a fort night to start the count down
to the day she comes closer to the meeting.
To see and touch the man
behind the voice on the phone.
No expectation; for she already knows
things fall apart.
She has played the role
of a wife in triplicate;
have seen paradise, and scary
under one roof;
been surprised by change,
resisting change, then
eventually embracing change.

And who could
know this possibility
of endless of possibilities.
Even with understandings that
timing is everything,
that time gives way
for the past to heal
even the deepest wounds
not visible with scars,
and under the right conditions,
time gives way for one to grow.
But speaking merely in mortality
wishing now for more time
than what remains.

And she believes...
believing at times when the desire was as
vague as the remembrance of dreams
broken in early morn,
that grace allows for dreams
to turn into what is.
Remaining steadfast
and trusting the man upstairs
that is ever so present...
and
now
under no illusions of what this is
love
may finally
be here.