one touch
kelly grace smith
I can see you
sitting beside me, just
sitting.
In a lecture hall, or a movie theater, or perhaps even
on a bus.
And I know as sure as I am writing these words,
that if I were to lean into you, ever
so slightly,
wind my fingers inside yours,
I would slip
into your soul.
Yes, in that moment - when my fingers wrap round yours –
the touch of our hands would allow me
to feel your soul.
And that is the best way I know how - with my words -
to describe to you what we possess,
you and I.
We are
joined
in this way.
It is almost beyond my ability to comprehend
this intimacy.
I can feel it -
like a baby’s face
nestled
against my neck.
My fingertips can barely touch it, just
graze it,
this intimacy.
It is right in front of me; so close I can almost feel
the heat of your body.
And yet,
I cannot touch you.
I know it appears to you that this gesture is so
ordinary -
winding my fingers inside yours.
But it is not.
It is not ordinary, it is
extraordinary.
It has tremendous power,
this intimacy.
Wars are waged and lives are lost
in the absence of it.
Diseases rage and ravage bodies
for the need of it.
People suffer deeply
for the want of it.
There is no greater mystery, nor magic
than this.
No deeper, more penetrating experience.
This is it;
the truth of our existence.
The moment when my fingers curl round yours and I
touch you;
touch you with my soul.
This is why we’re all here,
isn’t it?
To experience this moment, this
truth?
And so, if this is all I am left with
when you are gone,
this knowing -
this intimate, exquisite, extraordinary knowing;
that the sacred door between our souls always stands open,
that the truth of our existence is forever
woven together,
if this is all that remains when you are gone - then indeed,
I have received
a great gift.
