Cynthia Fender Clark

Until Again We Meet Cynthia Fender Clark

I raised my head from his shoulder and put my hand against his cheek. Tears. I could feel the rain on his face. It was not much, but it could have been. He was trying to be strong for me. I needed his strength, but I also needed his tears. The waterfall beckoned. It was my personal private space, but this time, my love needed solace as well. I held his hand and we stood, then walked. Silence. Thoughtfulness. We knew. It hurt so much, but Father knew what He was doing. Under the waterfall, we stood our clothes feeling the cool wetness of the falls. Purifying. A Baptismal of Father's rain of tears. We could cry now, both of us. The water would capture our tears and release them in the pool of water. Mourn. Yes. The sound came forth unbidden and the moon hid behind the shadows. Another and another the sound breaking the silence of the night. Hero joined. Wounded animals. That was the sound we made. Soon it was over. Soon we had ended our mourning, for now, anyway. There would come another time, but not yet.