Of Jacarandas

......though this post has had its time in the sun- it really needs re-posting 

It isn't only that we live in the wrong time, cica, but we are in the wrong place too. When I imagine us being together, it is always South Africa, and always and forever now in relation to a certain species of tree; a tree which has gripped my soul and taken her into itself with endless dreams and nameless longings. 

But see, I truly believe that a part of you never left; that a part of you walked away from your life as you know it now and made her own way into the world in another place. And I very much would have wanted to get to know her; she who has the soul of a tree. 

South Africa. But why? Somehow you have filled the psycho-geography of it with a richness and a depth of power and meaning that has forever wrapped my heart in subtle enchantments. There is so much sadness there, and passion and hope. It is the undiscovered country of your soul within which I would be lost, and gladly so. Totally nuts, of course, and I don't even know whether I am talking about you or the tree or about the whole gosh darn country. 

I sometimes get the feeling that South Africa is the only place in all of creation where I could actually lose you. And still, I would go with you to that world in a heartbeat. It is where we left our destiny. I look at a Jacaranda and my heart bursts with feelings that I could not even begin to name, each one as delicious as the next. Beneath her branches we could make of our lives the quintessence of every love story ever remembered. 

No, but Africa has become my sacred space because of you. It is my orchid-scented Orient, my far Cathay, my St. Petersburg in winter by candlelight; my own private Sonata for piano and strings wherein every love story that I have ever failed to cry over has become my own. And given my immigration status, if we ever did go to Africa together, I would have to stay. That is how it is with me. No going back. LOL

We have a house there, by the way. I go at times for fresh coffee with tangerines, and the breezes are waving the lace curtains. Good grief! There is probably a venomous snake in the corner, under the teakwood breakfront. ;)

still writing.....

And when we kiss, the blossoms fall from heaven, purple and pink and blue.