Almost Human

And this morning, the water rushed around me and my hips awoke, dancing to the invisible pelvic-clock, ticking the minutes away, swaying and circling and losing themselves in regained freedom. It was the boiling of blood, and the messages nestled inside my veins.

“You are as I remake you,” she sd.

My name is swirling about you in a stew of magickal herbs and spices. Humming her own mantra, calling in the directions, invoking the goddesses of man.

Sometimes miracles need time and patience to work right.

There is a treasure here in the threads we weave between our hearts. In the spaces between. In the gaps sewn together.

My name is dancing under the waterfall. Absorbing the caress of the divine. Falling prey to her inner goodness.

Rushing tides. Returned phone calls. Messages mis-transcribed.

It is all here, a tapestry, a quilt. Many seams. Many linkages. Enjoined curves.

Tangled in the hair of the Willow, my name dances on pointe, pirouetting around the soft ground, soaking up the minerals in the moisture, calling them through her body. Calling herself back from the lake. Calling herself back from the curtain of water that eclipsed her.

Sunshine is safe, once again. And on the overcast days, you can hear her shadow skipping rocks across the surface. Knocking at the window of self. The bedchamber of other.

The wind breathes the covered-up fireplace, and we have permission to exhale.

Fairies dance in my imaginary dream world. I wake up to your fingertips grazing across my skin. Gentle, at first. Barely there. Turning. Tumbling. Flying over the edges of me. Seizing me. Holding me captivated to you. Loving the textures. Wrapping tendrils of energy around my throat, my waist, my locks of curl.