What It Means to Be Found — Kevin Tyrone McMillion Jr.

I have walked through the desert for years, the sun a merciless sentinel, my shadow stretching thin and trembling. Countless mirages rose before me. I heard whispers of water, promises of life, only to vanish into the heat. I wandered, and all I found was sand. Hope, like the last flicker of a dying flame, began to fade. I collapsed. My tongue clung to the roof of my mouth; my body, scorched and brittle, dragged itself across the burning earth. And then… I saw you. An oasis, alive, breathing, impossible. The world shifted and I could not look away. Your beauty struck me like a blade of light cutting through shadow; a tear welled from my cracked and thirsty eyes. I drew myself into your shade, as if the trees themselves had bent to protect me. My body, close to surrendering, plunged into your water, and your arms… oh, your arms, they enveloped me, igniting something long dead within. In that instant, Calista, I understood what it meant to be found. What it meant for my soul to finally taste relief, and yet to ache with a longing that would never leave.