and I remember.
I more than remember.
A flood of smells, sounds and other sensations
wash over me,
crashing upon my awareness for the thousandth time.
I stand still; experience tells me the waves will pass.
But for now I am moved.
I am more than moved.
The unbidden waves of remembrance threaten to knock me down:
The movement of your body against mine, in mine.
You are drenched, spent in every way.
Panting, hardly able to catch your breath,
you plead simply,
“Prestame la toalla.”
I move obediently in the dark to obey.
My life is to obey…or so it was.
I am keenly aware of your every motion in the darkness:
You rub the musky towel vigorously over every part of your body,
and I want to help you:
Your hair, your back, your chest…
My life it to help you…or so it was.
You will be healed through the blood I have shed;
You will be happy through my tears.
And it is a fair exchange. The sweat of your brow
has brought me to life
I hold the green towel and I hear,
“This is my body that was broken for you…”
But something seems wrong with that thought.
The seemingly merciless waves have subsided
and I wonder why I am clutching this green towel.
I remember myself.
There are other things that must be done around here.