Miracle-making.

* part of this post was written a few months back.

 

We are separated by such a wide expanse.

Fifteen thousand kilometres, to be exact. That’s ten thousand miles.

Of land. And sea. And time.

 

And we are separated by the dance of darkness and day,

Twelve hours apart, to be exact. That’s half a day.

Of work. And sleep. And time together.

 

Sometimes, I find it amazing, how you always find a way to get to me, even though we’re in completely different time zones.

Thank you for sending me this beautiful song some time ago.

 

 

 

 

 

 

  I just can’t believe, that a

random

online accident

which became an

accidental

friendship

and materialized into a

surreal

encounter,

is actually becoming

more than we each ever dared

 to dream or hope for.

………………

 

It was impossible.

I swore, it would be impossible.

I thought you were crazy and naive and pointless,

and I thought I had said everything possible to make you

GO AWAY.

And then I prayed,

the one prayer that turned everything

topsy-turvy, inside-out and upside-down:

Dear God, let your will be done- whatever it may be.

I thought I was safe.

After all, a night and day, ten thousand miles and fifty thousand dollars stood between us.

You even became somewhat ill.

…..

Time, distance and fate.

It would take

nothing short of a miracle

to move these mountains.

It would take more than man.

It would take God.

…

So now, I can’t believe you’re

actually coming.

Not just coming, but

leaving your life behind,

moving over.

I can’t believe,

that God actually opened up

door after door for you.

Because I prayed one crazy prayer instead of

wishing we had never met.

…

I forgot,

that God is in the business of

miracle making.

 

“They’re both convinced

that a sudden passion joined them.

Such certainty is beautiful,

but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

 

Since they’d never met before, they’re sure

that there’d been nothing between them.

But what’s the word from the streets, staircases, hallways –

perhaps they’ve passed by each other a million times?

 

I want to ask them

if they don’t remember –

a moment face to face

in some revolving door?

perhaps a “sorry” muttered in a crowd?

a curt “wrong number” caught in the receiver?

but I know the answer.

No, they don’t remember.

 

They’d be amazed to hear

that Chance has been toying with them

now for years.

 

Not quite ready yet

to become their Destiny,

it pushed them close, drove them apart,

it barred their path,

stifling a laugh,

and then leaped aside.

 

There were signs and signals,

even if they couldn’t read them yet.

Perhaps three years ago

or just last Tuesday

a certain leaf fluttered

from one shoulder to another?

Something was dropped and then picked up.

Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished

into childhood’s thicket?

 

There were doorknobs and doorbells

where one touch had covered another

beforehand.

Suitcases checked and standing side by side.

One night, perhaps, the same dream,

grown hazy by morning.

 

Every beginning

is only a sequel, after all,

and the book of events

is always open halfway through.”

 

by Wislawa Szymborska – 1993