yelda

Through the longest and darkest of nights I wait. My breath comes in only the most shallow and pained of gasps and I can do nothing but measure each moment, inhale, exhale, and wait. I sit beside the tormented lovers through the centuries of this blackest night, stars hidden, mercifully, so that we are not tortured even further by their movement so slow that at times entire constellations go devoid and spiral back into history. I will pass through this Yelda and experience the exhileration of the coming sun, my one. Yes, in glory as his body stains the blue black of my night with the approaching dawn, I will breathe full once again, pain shed, and whisper to my lover. Salaam.

Thanksgiving (and then some!)

Gratefully, I sleep. I rise and dress and hear the shrieks of my children playing. Early as it is, they may shriek and yell and run and play. I do not have to shush or chase, reprimand or closet these bundles of energy any longer. For four and a half months they have been quieted as I tried to keep my family from impacting those who have been loving enough to offer their home while we had none. My friends are gracious for the most part, rarely making me feel the imposition was too great but still, there are those moments when I felt the burden placed on relations grow amd irritation take hold.
My incredible children, they have put up with much. They have slept in tents, on couches and blankets thrown upon the hard floor. They have woken in the night crying and confused unable to remember where they went to sleep the night before. They have seen mommy in states of desperation and anxiety, occasionally bearing the brunt of my emotion.
Poor Sophia, always willing to forgive me when I have been angry, always rushing to comfort Sage when he cries, often asking when we can go home, trying in her three year old mind to fit together the strands of our life. She is a marvel, so bright in spirit, so funny and full of wisdom, yet I see how this time has affected her. Sometimes she can scarcely contain her own emotion, devolving into a sobbing, incoherent mass of flesh and spit, tears and snot. She kicks and flails, arches her back and tenses every part of her body. Such rage and irrationality issues from her that for minutes no stimulus can enter her world. She often asks where people are; Where's Yuri? Barbie? Rob? Vandimir? Ethan? Sage? teacher? Even when I am sitting with her she will ask where I am. Where is my mommy?
I am right here, baby, same as always but perhaps now a bit more stable. I am right here, though now able to laugh, play games, cook dinner, make magic, be silly and dance around our beautiful new living room. I am right here - gratefully, blissfully at home.

rider, I know you

My one has gone, moved to the bay and I remain in the rain soaked land, shrouded in grey mists. Waves of sadness, they crest and relief comes when I hear his voice, read his words. Persian magic, it holds me still, enrapt. I dream of his sweet belly and devilish grin, him rubbing my feet and treating me like his queen. Noble love, divine one, may the universe propel you to a swift return.

simple

Cooked beans left in the pot to sit. No shell shock at slamming lids but dinner, slowly made and calmly absorbed. Then perhaps a glass of wine, a tendril of smoke and the dopamine quiet of after love rush. Breathing, smiling in a realm of my own, finally, finally I find I am home.

chapsss

I got my chaps today, mm-mmm as tight as they come: cinched about my waist, painted blackness upon my thighs, and a puddle of flesh dripping about my heels. I have desired these things for years. What delicious fun to finally posess them!

my best lover

There is this goddes I know, she has been with me all my life, if you listen I will tell you a bit about her. She is the sexiest thing I've ever seen, especially in the morning when her curly black hair, now streaked with grey, is a love blown mess about her face . And the way she walks, oh, the way she dances like she wants to fuck the world, yet would allow only the most blessed within the palace of her soul. I see her eyes, they reflect the moon, reflect so clearly she must be one of Hecate's girls. I adore that darkness which dwells within her, though it is misunderstood by some. For she is light and lightness, a mother of infinite sacrifice, yet stern and demanding in turn. And funny, have I mentioned her wit, her way of playing with people and words? Sometimes a trickster, always a friend, her laughter lifts me, makes me soar and forget the ills which sometimes fall all over my life. She is a priestess, of course, and girt with a sword she creates the universe with each serpentine movement of her elegant hands. She is not perfect; she has a pretty goofy grin and sometimes a hair grows upon her chin. Sometimes with a bit too much imbibed she'll say a phrase that makes me want to hide. She is irresponsible in ways of money, often forgets to call and is pretty damn messy, but these things make me love her better, harder, more. (She is me after all.) I know she strives, loves like a beast, makes others smile, makes them think. She ponders and believes in the highest of things, agape, thelema, tantra and god. She worships the flame which beams out of you, sees you out there shining like a star. You really should meet her and get to know my greatest lover, cerridwen.

This , though certainly narcissitic was an exercise, a letter to the one who I must know best in this life. Take it for what it is. Agape.

reasons for love, part 2

His love is a stream and I am wet. I am poured upon; his kisses and poems bathe me each day and cleanse this soul of worry and doubt. Oceansize, I absorb all that he can give, from the clearest waters of his highest mind to the polluted sediment of his past. Then, heated by sun's rays, love changes form, evaporates and condenses to rain on him in turn. A cycle never ending and oh, so wet.

Fire!

I finished my fire staff with help from my entire family- mom put up some fundage, Brother Ben supplied some old jeans for the wicks and my Dad helped screw them in so I wouldn't light his woods on fire if they went spinning off. I love the feel of the aluminum, the weight and the thickness, though it certainly hurts more when I bop myself in the face or achilles heel. I lit them on fire and man the rush of the noise! It brushes past my face and what a thrill. I haven't tossed them in the air yet while on fire (mom is hoping I wait till I get back to Eugene for that- she had to deal with my brother's 3rd degree burns as a child and is a bit nervous, I think.) I'll post some pictures later.
I miss my family in Eugene, Barb & Robbie, Big V & the Chandlers. Missed a mass and fun times at the Lodge, Blah. Most of all I miss my poet lover friend, beautiful one.

reasons for love part 1,

His midnight eyes, his perfect lips, countless kisses and and erotic fist, His devilish smile and boyish laugh, a brilliant mind and glorious staff. His bad boy stories and classics read, well placed quotes and continents tread, His black clad style and snappy dress, he loves me naughty, oh loves me best. For him I would wait countless nights for a mere instant of our love's delight.

My bro wants his computer so I don't have time to clean this silly post up. It does make me smile though to to shut my eyes and think of all the nuances and details of my lover. For my Sweetest one, my heart remains open in such a deliciously painful way. May it always be so.

sitting in limbo

In connecticut time is funny. Having grown up here I feel sometimes a teenager wrestling with the boundaries of this nest. Other times I am a mother disciplining then later a crone doling wisdom. All of this as time oozes past slowly, slowly until I want to run, sprint back to Oregon and all that brings me such comfort and joy.