To Be Denied is Sweetness in Bushels

Tonight, the intoxicating sweetness of You.

Let me tell you of the beloved skin. For to be denied is sweetness in bushels, soon to come.

The desert, where I live, leans against a fencepost and waits for the beloved. It sings into itself a song of wait. And still. And listen.

I’ve learned this as a child, holding onto the mane of a mare, herself a thistle in need of water, rushing miles in dunes, kicking up clouds of words that linger before disappearing in wait of her beloved.

I held my breath in silence as the storm approached. The mares ears ahead and shooting strait into the sentence unspoken. We waited.

The long drive to the sea of the body that waits to carry us home when we pass into night. Or pass into the searching that never stops. Our last breath as intoxicating as the first. Here is light. Here is water.

Here is where we keep searching for our home.

And if the arrival is the thirst answered, I felt a glimpse tonight.

You see, I listen for the beloved to speak. To lie down next to me.

As a child, the mare carried herself for me, and I into her as reeds waiting for shore and never landing but for a moment.

Let me tell you–to wait is to be blessed.

And I have leaned into the fencepost, looking toward the storm, listening to its promise to carry me home.

In the desert, a rain fall is the beloved’s body returning.

Now, after returning to this place, I am reminded of the call to wait, and be still.

The new horse stamped his feet. He looked toward the storm. It started to rain.

A jump to the side at the drops beginning. I held myself together. If we both burst into the sentence, we’d lose our footing.

I put him up, fed him a flake of earth. Stilled myself for the coming storm.

Now, I’m drinking wine on a porch, the rain come and gone. My own skin smelling of lavender and soap.

The sentence begins. It speaks to me of my beloved’s return.

To wait and be denied is a blessing.

It will come. And I am lying with my beloved as even the ground shakes in praising the water—the body, all of me, cleansed.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s