He seemed to me familiar, even though at first unknown.
Quite common on the surface, not quite lonely, yet alone.
I felt a forceful stirring, yet I didn’t know just why.
I liked him, yes, but didn’t have a clue, “this was the guy.”
He waited very patiently, hoping to catch my eye.
I turned him down so many times, yet I never heard his sigh.
Six years pass and suddenly, I find myself alone.
Finally I reach for him, and I’m amazed by what I’m shown.
What I saw was not a simple, quiet sort of man.
Instead a complex soul emerged, quite hard to understand.
Outside he is raging, with the pounding of his hands.
It seems there’s no frustration equal to this man’s.
It’s like his soul is screaming, so unsettled in this mess.
It knows what it is needing, and without that, it can’t rest.
Inside, it is clear to me, is a person made un-whole.
A man who feels defeated, an aching, sweet, sweet soul.
My purpose is quite clear to me, and matches my desire.
I only want to help him, to pull him from the fire.
He hesitates to take my hand, skittish to say the least.
But wouldn’t any one of us be, in the wake of past defeat?
He’ll trust me only slightly, ‘comes near me, then withdraws.
He wants his hands upon me, but fears I’ll snap one in my jaws.
Perhaps he thinks of fleeing, “Forget her – they’re all the same.”
Yet something holds him to me, makes him want to play this game.
What he doesn’t know is I’m meant for him, and he is meant for me.
Our worlds have come together, and we make the perfect “we.”
He doesn’t know I’ve waited twenty years to see his face.
He’s the man I’ve always wanted, like a soul-mate I misplaced.
He doesn’t know the power of what I clearly see.
The strength of my soul “knowing” and pulling him to me.
There is a lack, a nagging, whose source he still can’t see.
It is my soul whispering in his ear, “What you’re lacking, Dear, is me.”
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By Rachel Brown