The Way the Universe is Made

Those Eternally Linked Lives 30 September 24, 2017

I’m the vessel, the way our story
will be told, is already being told.
Two books in print and more coming.
You can’t help except maybe by
your voice planted deep in my
memory. “We were fools, Judy,
and miracle-workers.” Now my
country makes out your country
as an enemy. Yuri was worried:
what if Americans used nuclear
weapons against Russia? I write
to save one human experience
that will make war-mongering
irrelevant. The human race has
brought on itself huge and 
devastating storms; floods,
drought. Yet we two believed
God helped us. Not a personal
god, but the way the universe
is made. Evil exists, but it wins
only if we let it. The universe’s
binding of our two souls taught
us where the real power lies. We
are helpless only if we say we
are. We get reminders of our
frailty and then of our strength.
The zinnias I planted barely 
survived, but the lantana and
the small sunflowers took over,
and the forgotten naked ladies.
Pink morning glories ran over
the back porch railing. Cosmos 
leaped into the air from the 
unweeded garden. I set my
worries aside. Rejoiced when
editors I’ve never met want to 
read about my love for a Russian
man that leapt over all the 
boundaries of time and distance,
language, lifestyle. Metaphors
carried us past all the gate-keepers.
We had our wings–in-spirit--and
our souls fused. If the spirit is happy 
in its dwelling place, the body will 
keep up as best it can. After all, what 
is eternity but that which flies beyond 
all the human definitions of stopping 
places. Let me die only when my 
story–our story–is alive for the whole 
human race to treasure and save.