Desert Rose. ~ April Ricchuito

Via on Mar 14, 2012

I met him in the heart of the city. Tall, dark, and handsome.

I was coming down the stairs and when I saw him at the bottom of the stairs, he saw me at the same time and time just stopped right then and there. My heart jumped up to the throat, threatening to choke me and my breath stopped for a moment. I myself was spontaneously combusting at that particular second, bursting into flames as our energies engulfed each other. For that moment, I myself ceased to exist and there was only a union. There was no questioning when we looked at each other that both of us felt whatever it is was that moved between us.

The showers of sparkles from the fireworks hadn’t blinded me to the romance of it all, but the raw feeling of vulnerability was an uncomfortable, unwelcome sensation that I had no intention of exploring. For once the city’s hustle and bustle had an inviting allure and I fit right in, darting into the crowd as fast as I could, running away….as if my life depended on it… I was but another face in the crowd in a New York minute. In New York City, everyone is always pretending they’re in a hurry. They haven’t figured out that time doesn’t exist. And I had not figured out that there are some things you cannot run away from.

I left the same way I entered. He was still there. I tried not to study him as I left and did my best to avoid eye contact. He wasn’t having it though. He was not going to let me walk out of there. “Have a good day, ma’m”, he said softly. “You too,” I said, rushing past him. Every cell in my body was accelerating a thousand miles a minute to propel me out the door, but my soul whispered, “Where’s the rush? You’re going home.”

I made it up two steps before I turned around and made a stupid comment about him still being there in the same spot as when I came in. “I saw you come in,” he said. He asked where I was in such a rush to. I told him I was a writer. I was still on the staircase in fight or flight mode. “Can I talk to you about that?” he asked. “I write too.” I took a few steps backward. I came down the steps, my guard dropping as I descended to meet him where he was at.

It feels good to stop running and rest my weary feet. My armor is heavy, and I am battle weary. “I will only rest for a little bit,” I promise myself. I am making plans and the universe is laughing, like a bemused mother who finds her baby daughter playing in her makeup; she looks like a clown, but her mother sees her innocence and childlike wonder and it is everything that is beautiful.

When the universe wants to share a secret with you, the universe will find a way to make you listen. Some of us are still enough that we can hear the soft whispers; some of us need flashing neon lights. But if you stop talking and listen, it’s speaking to you; it’s always speaking.

The scenery is gorgeous and surrender is sweet. Fight or flight is our reptilian response; it is we who must learn to surrender. I don’t know where I’m going, but I’ll know it when I get there; but what I do know is this…sometimes in order to move forward, we have to take a few steps backward and drop our guards. I am safe, and the universe is supporting me.

It sends me little signals along the way; if the universe had a face, I imagine it would be smiling and occasionally winking, and I feel the winks like butterfly kisses on my cheek. It’s the same way his eyelashes feel against my skin. I’ve only claimed to be a writer; never a poet, but I saw poetry in motion and he was gorgeous; the movement towards stillness is poetry in motion and I hang on to every word; they are bittersweet, but I devour them and drink them all in; they are like water to a desert rose.

edited by Greg Eckard


April Ricchuito, D.D., MSW was once the type of girl who idea of “soul searching” was shoe shopping. Today, she is a writer and integrative practitioner who brings a unique voice to the field of health and wellness by combining traditional evidence-based techniques with ancient practices such as yoga and newer findings in contemplative sciences. Be sure to check out Verbal Vandalism to keep up with April’s regular written works and featured contributions or follow her on twitter.


About April Dawn Ricchuito

Allegedly, she's a writer. Or something like that.


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