Indian Mound Woman

Indian Mound Woman

    The turquoise sky shines above me like a crystal sphere of blown glass. The forest below is a dark ocean of green. Chlorophyll colors stream into my eyes.
    I feel  waves of exquisite bliss penetrate the core of my feminine essence. I gaze down from atop the secondary knoll of Emerald mound. My solitude is complete with me alone upon the nipple rising from the breast of mother earth.
    I descend the stairs to stroll the grassy ceremonial plaza. My body is bathed in June heat. My thin summer dress clings to my moist skin.
    My adobe curves smolder with the golden heat of creation. I shed my shoes to tread the Indian earth in barefoot beatitude.
    As I walk in reverential meditation, I glance at my feet. There is a patch of Indian Paint Brush in full scarlet bloom. I know that the flower parts are edible. They have similar health benefits to eating garlic. However, this is true only when ingested in moderation. The roots and green parts of the plant, if consumed, are highly toxic. Indians consume the medicinal flowers. They use them to treat sexually transmitted diseases and improve the immune system. Some tribes use it to stop menstrual flow. I pluck a bunch and slip them into my purse. Perhaps it will be a natural birth control for me.
   I don’t want to have a child with the man I need space from. I am here to find my center away from him. But he has imprinted himself in a place so deep and hidden that I never want to be purged of him.
    The first time I kissed him I felt like he had completed the circuit of my life. It was as though there was a gap which only he could bridge. He penetrated the very chromosomes of my being.
    When he told me I was the perfect woman, I felt like I’d been put on a pedestal so far above him that I could never reach him again. He loved to photograph my naked form. But his adoration grew so much that I became deified in his mind. How can he love a Goddess? I was no longer a woman but had become a supernatural being.
    He stopped having intercourse with me for fear of defiling me. I felt so alone in my elevation that the world stopped for me. I pondered how I could
return to being a mortal woman in his eyes. Here I found refuge under the sea of blue sky.
    I feel the moist grass beneath my feet. Each step takes me deeper into the sacred mystery of this place. I need to know the answer to my plight. My car waits to enfold me in the illusion of security. So I slip my shoes on. I sit on the edge overlooking my car. An African American woman, in a colorful ethnic dress, walks up and speaks to me. She says, “I’ve sat in that place for hours. It is a power spot.” I smile and agree. In this nexus of ancient energy I find peace. Finally I am ready to cross the chasm into single life once more.