Thursday, April 15, 2021

​Forbidden by Meg Isaac

 My hand yearns for yours as I rest my head back on the mattress of grass and the choir of birds sing their tune above us. It is easy, in times like these, with the sun beating down over us and the wind humming a song between the crisp leaves of each tree, to forget every trouble we have faced, and the worries that have occupied the darkest corners of my head for so long. This body I inhabit, so often tense with an indescribable anxiety, for once is at peace, each limb floating further and further into the mossy meadow in which we are positioned. Loving you has never been easy, but in times like these, I’m not searching for comfort or ease, I am searching for your adoration.

I fight the urge to let my eyes close, turning towards you and staring deeply. A description will not do you justice. Could I describe how your hazel hair runs down your back, more striking than the seine, how your freckles dance across your cheeks, and your eyes, a blue too bright for this simple world, hold a thousand secrets and tell a hundred tales? I could. 

But you are not the perfect woman, I could never describe you as such, for who could describe an angel in such a mundane way?

My greatest wish is for nothing to disturb this moment, for time to freeze, and the world to stop turning so that I can have you, and only you, forever. Returning to our husbands, returning to a town that would drive us away if they got the slightest suspicion of the love we held, that idea seems so farfetched and so pointless. We fought hard, we won the war, the country got their freedom, and yet somehow, we are still trapped, confined to moments like these, perfect in every way possible, except for one. They must end. 

“Darling, if I could save you in a drawing and keep you there for all eternity I would, for you are the finest art there is” You say, somehow putting my thoughts exactly into words. That has always been a talent of yours, almost as if you could read my mind.

“That was rather sloppy dear,” I retort, “I thought I was supposed to be the romantic one here”

You laugh, a melodious laugh, a laugh unlike anything I have ever heard. It is not mirrored in the twinkle of wind chimes, or the chime of a bell, it is unique to you, like so many other things. I had always been told about love as a child, the feeling that you would get when you found Mr. right. Never, in my wildest dreams, had I pictured it would feel so heavenly, and never did I imagine it would not be a Mr. right that I would find.

“You know we have to go back eventually; they will start to miss us at some point” 

You inform me of what I already know, but refuse to believe, the echoes of your laugh still lingering in the air.

“Will they? Do you think they would notice if we didn’t return? What if we left now, went somewhere no one could find us, no one could judge us, we could be ourselves. I could hold you when you cried rather than stare at you from across a room. You could draw the trees as I played with the children and put smiles on our faces that would never be eradicated. 

We could be happy, don’t you think?” The image that has occupied my thoughts since the moment I set eyes on you is finally released, put out there for, well, not the world, but for you to see.

“Love, I could think of no better way to spend my days than with you. But you know as well as I do, that can’t be. How would we earn money for food, do you think our husbands would never find us, do you think we would not face the same judgement but elsewhere? You are my everything, but sometimes, everything isn’t enough”

In reality, I know this is all true, it is what I have been trying to tell myself since the image first manipulated its way into my brain. But hearing it from your lips, realising the world I longed so desperately for may never come to fruition, it causes a pain in me unlike any other. Why is it fair that we cannot be together because of other people, and their warped view of what love should be? They cannot tell me this is not natural, because you are the only thing that feels right, so who are we to stop that? Why should we have to hide because we are the same gender, why are we not free to love, like everyone else? I ask a thousand times, why? And yet I never receive an answer.

“I know. But we can do something,” I state, as I start ripping flowers from their homes, crafting them together to form a promise, “marry me, right here, right now. I may not have a fancy ring or a dress or a church, but we have love, and that is all we need. Marry me, otherwise I shall stay here forever, and I shall never leave until you say yes.”

My heart beats with, something similar to anticipation, as I look into those ethereal eyes once more, and start to question what your answer will be.

“Well, you certainly are the romantic one, aren’t you? Of course, I could never refuse you.”

With a relief I have never felt before, I slip my makeshift ring onto your finger, and admire the beauty of the flowers, but more the way in which they will never compare to the beauty of their wearer. We kneel on the grass, no longer caring about stains or mud, and you look at me, and everything around me, the towering trees, and the birds who continue to sing, and the grass that tickles at my knees, it all disappears, and only you remain. 

“I promise, that no matter what, the love I hold for you shall always remain true and strong, and that through the worst times and the best, I will be by your side, and I will weather it all with you. For there is no storm that can destroy us.”

The words you utter, so few and yet they mean more to me than any words ever spoken before. 

“I promise, that even though I cannot be with you, I will always be there, holding you up and 

I will love you harder, and I will love you more with each day that comes. No prying eyes or horrid comments or cold stares will ever be enough to tear me away from you. My belief was always that love would change my whole world. I know now that I was wrong. You are my world, without you there is nothing. And so, I promise, that I will keep this world spinning, and I will never let it stop.”

We embrace and share a moment so unbelievably special that I fear none will ever compare. A grin spreads across my face as I look back up to you once more and say

“The least you could do is make me a ring as well”

© Meg Isaac

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