|Blogs > teachlit77 > Notes from the Teacher|
You know this is for you.
I miss the silent times, when we are both quiet. I want you to lay on my chest and listen to my heart. Now that we are not talking, the other senses awaken, slowly. My hands run through your hair, my fingers rubbing each strand. I can smell your hair, the upper part of your body. I take it in because it is a fragrance.
My fingers are so warm they are almost burning. Even with my eyes closed I can see your body through my hands. I am so happy to take this time, the silence is precious. It steadies us. And yes, it makes you strong. I know you are uncertain, I can feel the uncertainty moving about your body, in your breath, in the pace and flow of your blood.
You can be uncertain and strong at the same time. We are all uncertain and strong at the same time.
It takes us much more time to say these things through our bodies, without speaking. But I am connected to you in a way voices will not allow us to touch. And unlike all those words, I will remember this.
Rest, fall asleep on my chest. I will breathe slowly, like you. Lay in my chest. Hear me breathe. I will wait until you make that single, sleeper's twitch. Fall into my chest and I will catch you. The world between uncertainty and strength does not exist in us.
You are worth this, yes. So am I. So is the sweat that is slowly buliding where our bodies cover each other. So is the feeling when you wake up and see me still sleeping. You will wake up as the person you know you are, the person whom you want to be worthy of this. Though you have been all along and always will be.
Wake me up and we will continue this silence until we, together, burst out laughing. This joy comes from the heart. It's waiting for us.