Stranded Lighthouse

© My Anh Nguyen July 2006

“You look different. Have you changed?” He asked her with a quizzical expression on his porcelain face.

She held confusion in her eyes at what he said and asked, “Have I?”

He nodded and pursed his lips together as though searching for the right words to say. She waited for his response and at last he said, “Now you often look far off in the distant. Your eyes hold an ocean of sorrows when you do.”

“Isn’t that normal for everyone?”

Shrugging he tucked the strands of her silky black hair behind her ears and kissed her forehead. “No… not for you.” She remained perplex at his gestures and he smiled at her with all the warmth of his heart. “You’re too beautiful for such sadness. Even angels would fall for your light.”

She shook her head and replied solemnly, “However even angels fall and need guidance.”

Without notice he pulled her into his strong embrace and whispered into her ear, “That’s why I am here. Don’t walk too far in front of me; I might lose sight of you.”

“I think I’ve lost sight of where I’m going.”

“No. You have me to hold your hand and walk on that path alongside you.”

She gazed up at his lips that were curved into a soft smile and she also beamed without knowing it herself. “Maybe… just maybe, you can be my lighthouse.”

“I’ve always been it was merely your ignorance for not wanting to make use of it.”

Without much choice she nodded agreeing to his statement. For now she wanted to rest her eyes and not look far off beyond what she cannot see.

He was used to this silent, her deafening silence that wrapped him wholly. Yet still he murmured, “What do you think of when you have those sorrowful eyes?”

“I think of the untouchable and my yearnings to reach out for it,” she answered slightly opening her eyes then closing them again trying to push images away from her head.

His large rough hands that were usually for intense labour were now caressing her hair tenderly; she could have fallen asleep if he didn’t say, “There are creations in this world that doesn’t allow us to obtain because it is far more exquisite if it is left untouched.” He lifted her chin for her to look into his deep intense emerald green eyes and continued, “Once our tainted hands have grasped it, it would lose its value.”

“Admiring it from afar is good enough you suppose?”

“Yes, I’m doing it right now.” He kept his eyes locked onto her brown ones that at the fixed moment had a glimpse of melancholy in it.

Her brow furrowed as she questioned, “But you are touching the untouchable.”

“No I’m not.” He placed both of his hands on her shoulders and said, “I want to touch your heart that you had sealed off from any intruders but him.”

That struck her hard; she looked down on whatever she could her shoes for goodness or his – anything. “But once you get hold of it, like you say it won’t be as valuable anymore,” she retorted after some time of deep thoughts.

He snickered and ruffled his hazelnut coloured hair with his fingers and answered, “I’ve learnt to be content.”

“Perhaps, I should too.”

She tenderly smiled at him and kissed his cheeks before walking off. Quickly he asked, “Where are you going now?”

“Somewhere only angels could reside.”

He placed his hands into his trousers’ pockets and smirked. “The power of hope will bring you there.”

She shook her head and rebutted, “No, hope alone cannot. The hope of love will.” She waved at him and turned away to no one in particular whispered, “I will love again.”

“In the end I’m still a stranded lighthouse,” he sighed and watched her figure disappeared out of his sight.

Leave a Reply