Sing for Me
“You are mine now,” he said. “Sing for me.”
It seemed his voice came to her from somewhere above, or from a hidden corner of her consciousness. She wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter. Whenever he spoke her body thrilled as a bride’s when her husband calls to her. The voice was stronger than any voice, carried an authority as no other and would never be denied, not by her. She had denied him once and it cost her everything that she held dear. “You’re mine...” How could he say such a thing, she marveled disturbed, when she had been his for half her life? Surely he knew she had lost her singing voice long ago. If only he had not added “Sing for me” she could be ecstatic that he spoke to her as he did on this, one of rare occasions.
She smiled softly, savoring the feeling of total bliss. “I am his, finally, completely his. This will never change, it is forever,” she breathed, lit by an inner fire. She had belonged to him, served him fervently at first, but always with a bent to self centeredness, with murmuring and complaints. Looking back, her own philosophy had led her all the way. He would grant her the desires of her heart, she’d thought, if she served him faithfully and everything she did would prosper. It did not; a struggle of will ensued subtly, that lasted many years and like a spiral downward, her life spun slowly, relentlessly into decay. New things grew old, joys diminished, all she had loved, died by and by, until she fell into a dungeon of darkness and deep depression.
He came to her at that hour when she felt as if she were a twin to the Phantom of the Opera. She’d played the sound track of the movie, while driving home from work, until she felt the phantom’s essence mingle with hers. The last and added song to that sad tale ended with “Child of the wilderness, learn to love, learn to live alone...”
In those days when her heart turned to stone, it seemed he had never existed, though she cried for him he remained aloof. Rather, he sent a mentor to guide her back to him, but not until she had come to the end of her will. So much had come between them; she didn’t know how to retrace her steps and where to find him, while he stood in the shadows, waiting.
Though she had loved him passionately from the start, there had been dry times but the underlying, deep, sustaining love had stayed through all those desert days and the years the locusts had eaten.
“But how can I ever sing again?“ she said aloud while driving on the open road. The blueness of the big sky had broken up with puffy white clouds. Whenever she drove this stretch along the swampy reserve and a wide grassy slope that led to a large pond, her heart expanded with anticipation of his presence. This had been their place of meeting in the past and she waited until she came to the busy crossroads that brought her back to the reality of life yet, the mystery of his elusive ways left her with a deep longing.
Often she let his last words drift through her mind as if that would bring him closer, or cause him to speak, but at the end of her one-sided conversation she realized what he had said before had not finished its course. On that stretch of open road he had come to her three times. “You are mine, sing for me...” reverberated through her heart. another time he had said, “ I am here with you.” What comfort those words had given her and still did when her heart swelled with love for him. The third time he spoke would carry her from here to eternity, it was the final confirmation of his love. “I have always loved you,” he spoke with such endearing tenderness. Nothing would ever separate them, not death or life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor height nor depth, would separate her from the one she loved. She had tried but could not sing now, she would sing a new song when she saw him face to face.
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