Iceland

Strains of sound
Curl and wind their way
Up the path today.

The stones dig beneath my feet
The wind stains my hair with salt
My purpose is ahead of me, without fault.

I see the silhouette in front of me
The spire cutting the grey in half
A chill goes through me, the sun keeps hiding its laugh.

I touch the white wood in front of me
My feet falter, but I open the gate
The black door in front of me contains my music, my fate.

The darkness of my dress competes with the clouds
The wind whips my hair in front of my eyes
I can’t see for a quiet second, but the louder seconds follow.

The door slowly opens and the music surrounds me in a warmth I’ve never felt
Eyes peer around to see me, searching for an answer to questions of themselves
I walk slowly forward, wind pushing me, pulling me. Let me see.
Let me see him first, let me hear his laugh, let me hear him say
It’s you today. It’s you from now. It’s you that I need to smooth my furrowed brow.
A rush of lights and smiles and hands to guide my way
Leading me down a wooden floor to where he stands, looking at me like his heart knows no other way.
My heart competes with the beat of my heels on the floor
Silence is the canvas for my breath
I see my birth, my life, my death
In his face, his touch,
All in front of me
My hands shake as he,
A gold band in his hand,
Promises me eternity.