I'm dancing at your wedding

Even if I'm not there. Distance can't stop us sitting by the ocean with prosecco, can't stop us burning in the sun. When we’re there no one is about to leave, no one needs anyone to stay. When the sun is setting over the harbor gossip is abstract. It's only real with the sunrise and you're on the cusp of something truly new. 

 

Our advance guard, first to jump. She knows what she wants, it happens. I'm in awe and she’s change and tradition, action without fanfare, matter of fact surety. She sees me serious, allows absurdity without ridicule. She laughs with me and I don't doubt her.

I see her open and laughing, I see her running I know she hates it but I see braids swinging behind and I want to hold the ends again, ask how she got so far ahead. Her path is straight and when it bends she breaks a new one. She sees where she’s going. She will get there; it will happen. 

Mine is murky with fog dust and city glow, but when I see her I glimpse the underpinnings of the confident. Sometimes she looks back with another laugh on her lips and I can’t tell if she dares me to catch up or if she’s just ahead, take my time. She'll detour to circle the astroturf for ice cream and one lap turns to four when we run parallel.

And this man laughs the same sanguine laugh, we see glimpses of him in blue and know he’s hers. They're parallel work and play and love, about to merge and I can’t but marvel.

Two confident in change and tradition, this is your fanfare. I shout it from the desert I make the warm wind take my voice, my love and I'm sure it reaches you because around you two things happen. 

My face on a shoebox has all of my spirit but my body's absence stings. I'm there; I'm in the yells from that table, I've spilt wine on the floor already. I’m dancing, shouting; I'm dizzy drunk on surety and champagne. 

This would have been a great cut-out.

This would have been a great cut-out.

My girl, my lady, one quarter of my core, float naked in the river for me. This day is you and he in the Lamprey, Atlantic, Persian, Indian. Sea and air have my love and superfluous best wishes; as if you need wishes. Stay sure stay laughing stay running ahead now with a hand to hold and I’ll see you both at the next crossroad. 

Nora Byrne1 Comment