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If I Could
Written: 8/14/98
If I could give you one gift, I would give you
understanding. It is
a responsibility, but a gift nonetheless. My love you have, as well as the
love of God. To tell the truth, I'm not sure giving you my love would have
been my choice, but that's the way it is. The understanding I wish for you
is one without the hard lessons that steal hope, innocence and faith. I'm
not sure that understanding can exist, but watching you hurt in that way is
something I never wish to see. I don't want you to hurt in any way, but I
want to be able to help fix it if I can.
One night, as a friend held me so tight his
fingers left small
bruises on my back and shoulders, I was reminded of the subtle difference
between passion and lust. Pure lust is like dry ice, it's so cold it burns
to the touch. It eats at your heart and creates a fog that confuses the soul
when you try to water it down into something it's not. Passion, though, is
really a fire, like they say. It burns strong and threatens to consume at
times, creating a desire that seems insatiable but then it calms, simply
warming the soul and heart. Lust leaves you empty, cold and hurting, but
passion pulls you as close as you will let it and calms you to sleep in
safety. Remembering this, I looked into his eyes in search of the truth and
found what I expected but did not know what to do, so I just held him close.