It was a night of  young wonder

 

full moon,

 

summer,

 

the air was warm

 

and slid lusciously

 

along our bodies.

 

 

Her face was beautiful,

 

but,

 

the moon wept in her body.

 

Her body was a land of weeping.

 

 

We both dreamed of beautiful bodies.

 

Her sweet, swelling bosom

 

under the touch of my  hand

 

was only an idea to her

 

She was quadriplegic

 

alive to touch

 

only above her breasts

 

For her

 

they could of been another's

 

 

She felt with her mouth,

 

sweetly touching my face.

 

as I leaned in over her wheelchair

 

her gentle tongue pressing

 

 

her savoring mouth

 

kissing and kissing

 

Hours passed, and we laughed

 

and talked and wondered

 

through the night

 

 

She tasted everything

 

with eyes closed  

 

so that better

 

her heart might bloom with images

 

 

We were up all night. 

 

I remember the light of dawn coming slowly,

 

and with it came

 

a return to memory

 

and comparison with others

 

and

 

the flower of her delight

 

closed with the sun

 

 

She would not give me a number where to reach her,

 

perhaps

 

she was too wise from her pain

 

or perhaps

 

just too vulnerable

 

 

Her friends came and wheeled her to their car.

 

It had heavy doors that shut firmly.

 

I watched her eyes looking out the window.

 

I saw sadness looking out her eyes.

 

I felt her beautiful, sad body looking out her eyes.

 

 

Don't forget, sweet one,

 

I felt

 

Love is your whole body.

 

Don't forget,

 

love is the whole body.

 

I remember her love 

 

looking

 

through the heavy doors
 
looking out the window

 

and

 

I was scared

 

because I realized

 

her practice is no more or less

 

than the one I or anyone else must perform.

 

We must yield everything up to what is

 

Because love is the yielding

 

of the whole body

 

to God