Green is all I see. Rich, luscious green landscape and rough rocks placed in the rich soil is all I see. The wind whips about my hair from behind. It is just as rough as those rocks, but it feels liberating. There is a force stronger than myself on the face of this earth and it gripped me well. I turn to face the open Atlantic Ocean. I stand on the edge of an incredibly deep cliff and watch as the enormous waves crash mercilessly into the rocks beneath me with thunderous violence. I breathe the clean, fresh air. What a difference it is from the polluted city smog. I may never leave this place.
There is another reason that tempts me to stay on this island of rough, rugged nature. Countless times I have heard the stories depicting this wonderful place on earth. “That is where you should go. The history is so fascinating. The culture so different from this place.” That’s what I was told. Values based o humanity instead of materialistic matters; a culture worth studying and a lifestyle worth living were the reasons I had to listen to. I would wonder, though, if this fascination would fade as the novelty wore off. What would happen next? I know the free spirit that lives inside this human being, for it also lives inside me. It would grow restless and weary; it would look for things that I could not provide. Today it wants to return to its roots, tomorrow it wants to explore the world, with mine, without mine, it doesn’t matter. Then there is my free spirit that cannot live without its freedom. It would parish most painfully in the hands of commitment. But, Oh!! What a paradox!! I love this man with all my heart! Yes, I proclaim it from this cliff most loudly: I am in love with this man, with this human being, with his spirit, with his soul beyond words of expression!
This is my reason for staying. For too long we have been apart, not knowing when we would see each other again. Day after day he was in my thoughts; he was in my dreams. He was my companion in times of hardship and joy. But my timeless love for him has caused me to live in a loveless time. My heart is aching as I remember his name, the green of his eyes and the way his black hair felt as I ran my fingers through it. Yes, I am in love with an Irish man. This love has caused me more heartache than happiness, but I would follow him to the end of this world, if he asked me to. But he hasn’t. Does he love me? I am sure of it. Has he ever professed so? Not directly. He once took my small hands into his, looked into my eyes and said:
“Two souls connected for all eternity,
Yet forever separated.
One soul torn in two,
Always looking for its other half.”
Then he went away, my Irish man. Now, I stand in this country of rough beauty, forceful winds and flanked by the moody ocean waiting for his return.
