Saturday, September 03, 2005

from the threshhold

From the threshhold of indecision, I sway t'ward regret and reach back, swinging my hand in a wide arc searching for more words, different words, easier words, unable to get a firm grasp on the slippery question. Swaying with fear, swinging my arms wider and wider about the night as deep, dark, and endless as any child's, I make contact with nothing more solid than my intuition. As would anyone desperate for direction and support, I decided to make do with that. Grabbing it with all the force I ever used to push it away, down, aside, I demanded, "What? Say! Say anything!" It told me what I knew: running back through the door of willingness won't end the night, and though going forward wouldn't force the dawn either, at least there would be stars.

Warming to the touch of my intuition, surrounded by the roar of my breath in the near-nothingness of wonder, we stepped forth, and stepped forth again, and then again, my eyes so wide with willingness to catch even the faintest light of guidance they ached, at last I saw the stars I sought. Tiny points of light, so small they must have been distant, but so sharp and clear they might have been near, t'ward which my intuition and I sort of...strolled with a slight sway, warmer and warmer, slow-burning rythm greasing limbs and slicking back doubt, smoothe against skin that - now - just wanted to know.

They weren't stars. They weren't far. At my knees was a low iron bed and in the naked light I saw a man, unclothed, lying on his stomach. A thin, strong man, easy-feeling, knowing I was finally there, ready. I touched his rough feet. He relaxed further and lay his head down on the bed waiting. He was smoothe and warm, yielding but hard. Exploring the length of this stranger I knew better than others, I turned away once, panicked, looking around, wanting to know if intuition and I had inadvertantly parted ways. But there it was. Real and warm and responsive as this man lying under the blanket of those small cascading lights and this small rising woman.

He rolled over now, and without waiting, I enveloped him, dividing myself with the idea that life is not always safe, life sometimes hurts, life reveals consequences unfortold, un-undoable, too often unforgiven, but with great pleasure. I went wild with willingness, to be wrong, to be strong, to risk taking more than my share, to consume this freedom without care. I laughed, and the laughter filled me too. Then I wept, and the release filled me more. And when I was filled, satiated by myself, I released him, blessed him, and bent down to kiss my face once again before I let Animus fall back into sweet slumber. I did not need a constant companion. It would be enough to remember how to rouse the strong, willing stranger I knew better than the others.

Full of Self, I ambled easily on into the night without looking back, unconcerned with erring, knowing that the lights and all the necessary parts of myself would follow if I led.

Steph

4 Comments:

At 2:42 AM, Blogger faucon of Sakin'el said...

Very powerful and confident imaging, extracted, no doubt,
with pain and fear --
such is the poet and artist made.

Walk tall and proud

Nemaste'

faucon

 
At 3:35 AM, Blogger Heather Blakey said...

This really is quite extraordinary Steph. Beautifully crafted words! Indeed, I am totally alert and attentive.

 
At 3:12 AM, Blogger Believer said...

Rest assured you will collect more of "self" during this journey, Steph. Gather all the light and strength you find and add it to what you already are, the words already belong to you. Blessings.

 
At 6:57 AM, Blogger Imogen Crest said...

Yes, leaving parts behind lovingly while you forge ahead.

 

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