By Debbonnaire Kovacs, posted Sept 30, 2015 I watched a brilliant bird fly by, squawking. Its colors were radiant, but its voice was not exactly musical. I named it toucan and watched it nuzzling its mate.
I watched a hairy creature scratching itself in a tree. It was intelligent and dexterous, but had a wrinkly face. Its partner didn’t seem to mind. I called them apes and moved on.
I found a small, furry creature, soft as a cloud, and nestled it under my chin. It was adorable, but foolish. I called it rabbit and put it down. A second one joined it and they hopped away happily.
I looked into the sea and saw creatures of eye-catching grace. Some lifted their heads from the water and seemed to laugh at me. I named them fish and dolphin, and turned away from their togetherness.
I watched two galloping creatures that made my heart stir. “Horse,” I whispered. “What magnificent manes!”
I turned my eyes upward to my bright Companion. “They all are two,” I said, feeling something in my chest—something I couldn’t name.
My Companion smiled.
When I woke up, I saw you, and my breath stopped in my lungs. You have the beauty and radiance of the toucan’s feathers, the intelligence (and more) of the apes, the softness of the rabbits, the grace of the dolphins, and, yes, a magnificent mane. But you—you!
You are more.
You are me, and not me.
You are bone of my bones, heart of my heart.
You are mine; I am yours.
We are one.