This Do in Remembrance of Me

I see the green toweluntitled

     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

Tonight.

Today

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.

©2006

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