Sacred Contracts II:  Concepción

           
I melted in love with the southern hemisphere            
sleeping against the chest of an active volcano          
fusing my glands sticky against the humid Universe          
of an island that I never wanted to leave again.            
           
Objects mirrored above me grew into reflections          
closer than my fingers could reach;  I watched light            
chase the ruddy-capped nightingale, its flight parting            
the first cigarette of the lake's smokey morning breath.            
           
A desire for water flows through me and it's cliche            
for a reason; it's older than I am and a child plays in it          
every day. Love isn't contained, you see; it's rising space,            
reaching up to tug the bear rug from under God's feet.            
           
The pain is immeasurably steep and I won't pretend            
it's not. Regardless, I light fireworks over my lake        
until the stillness is covered with curling ringlets          
of color too wondrous to think beyond the sight.            
           
When faced with a deck that will rent your heart despite          
the choice; refuse to hold court as the waiting mistress.             
Choose the Lovers and the Moon instead; be a feral          
animal; mate for survival against the volcano's chest.            
~    
   
Image Wingmakers Chamber 2