Month: September 2016

At your pull I feel my current
swell
my body knells
and calls you to worship
at the depths of me.

We are sacred things
breathing fragrant fire
lit off the ether.

A love knot
made from pagan hides
tanned in Atlantic skies,
although we are
unbound
by shame and doubt.
Free to rock and reel
wild eyed
in an ecstasy
of sighs.

My phantom limb,
I severed sin to make you kindred
to me.
The sinew of musculature,
arterial estuaries,
the weave of a tapestry
stretched across
your legs
your neck
your back
and stretches lithe,
to comfortably encompass me.

You are firelit in my minds eye,
and these sighs and tremors started deep
in the memory of the sacred roots
of our respective ancestral trees.
Now ripe with red Magdelene fruit
and flush with fresh green leaves.

Oh and what nectar rises within me?
That this and this
and oh this
may be cast in amber.
Yet there is more to each breath
than can be caught.

The holding of you is in more than
your gaze,
or your locks,
or your
hips between
my legs.

It is in the twine
of threads
a warp
and weft
of bodies and breath,

It is in the wrap of hands
and wrists
in the
plait of
of life and death.
It is in the echo
of hearts that
knock at chests.

It is in your eyes
and sighs
And those moments when I once again realise

that they belong to

you you you you you you you.

 

At your ankles and elbows are angels.
Spritely things that light the irises
that blossom and blink
in your fingertips and split-ends

when you walk among them
so that you might illuminate
that which is unseen.

You to whom darkness is not an enemy,
amniotic to the anamnesis of jaded destiny.
Lantern lit at the core of your being.

And when the black crow comes cawing
on the portal days and calls you
into the arms of death
you cast the wicked back with an embrace
and ask for nothing
but serenity
from the faceless presence that is swept
by the skirts of your memory.

When you are granted emancipation after
wading in the waters,
time and tide churned
in the depth of your being
that sizzle off the embers of your belly,

the raven holds for you
a shiny thing
to
clatter down the chimney
dislodge the dust
so that the fire can burn hotter
and higher
and kiss the sun that sparked it
blaze up your body’s conduit.

In the in between the dreamtime
when the wolves came howling
on the river bank
your ancestors flanked their reflections.

And you saw what you saw.
And that is what you knew.
Their lilt is there so as to
light up a moon for you.

 

To my elder sister,
who has shown me a spectrum

of kindness

and wildness

and patience

and scald

I hope for you everything
Everything
Everything

You could ever dream

And thank you for being there
to inspire and encourage me
to come
when I was called.