Forward to the Beginning: She Speaks (a poem)

Sweeter beginnings were never had,
offerings of opening and softening,
wonderings of kisses and warmth of bodies.

If I enter the temple that is Becoming Us,
what will happen there?

Stilling hearts, expectant for God,
skin worshipping skin,
heart worshipping heart.
We know, we know, the preciousness of this.

How few can even see it,
how few can touch that unfolding, beating heart inside,
the eternal Center, the Source . . .
then breathe it into the Beloved?

we do.

I sought, I sought
the touch of a gentle and strong man,
I sought God in my bed,
and found him reflected in the eyes of the one who entered me.

His hands follow the curves of my breasts,
and prayers escape the lips which feast at the temple altar.
Prayers of Life lived, journeys traveled,
burning and purifying.
All of who I was, now ash,
who I am becoming
forged in the white-hot fire of this Love.

All I ever wanted to be,
alone and in love with her,
growing
to cherish deeply
this person I had ignored.

"the gift you gave was me"
said the god to the goddess.
"the gift you gave was me"
she replied.