January 31, 2018

Dream Kiss

Dream Kiss

As I wake with your dream kiss
wet upon my lips,
still warm and embodied,
deeply received within my heart,
upon the skin of my opened mouth,
this one kiss a quenching
of a life time of thirsting,
I wonder.....what if?
What if, worn and weathered as I am,
I could turn towards my own face
and resting it gently
between my palms,
love it like it was the night sky,
filled with mysteries unknown and untold, 
every line a journey towards belonging,
or the exile which carries us home,
every blemish and spot a landmark
of trial or tribulation,
received and overcome,
or at least survived?
Every wayward discrepancy
to the projected and expected ideal,
a triumph of wild wolfishness
over tame complicity,
in order that I could arrive here now,
to this loving of myself,
so exquisitely.

What if I could, with my own awareness,
behold the preciousness
of my own perfect body,
with all its wayward landmasses
and engraved tributaries,
and worship the sacredness of every cell,
no place unworthy of my devotion,
no other body to know but this one,
no thing to compare it to,
just this beautiful, flawed,
homely, safe, ecstatic,
imperfect body
that tells a story of how it has lived,
how it has withheld,
what it has given,
what it has carried,
what it has managed to put down
to be here now,
ready for this love.
Ready, not because it has finally
somehow become worthy,
but ready because this has always been
what we have each deserved.

What if I could know
beyond a shadow of a doubt
that I was the one
that I was always meant to love,
to be the one who I choose,
beyond all others,
to be the one through which
all women become loved,
because this one is chosen
as the one to receive the love
of the All Woman
through the one?
What if each and every one of us
became the one
most worthy of love,
as each of us are?
What if we allowed ourselves
that much magnificence?
What if I could love myself like this?
So that I could know at last,
the brevity of perfection
that lies within each one of us,
that rises to the surface,
like a fresh pink bloom
when met with devotion
and attunement to what is,
the glory of our flawed embodiedness.

What if now there was no one else to love
but this one,
this rejected, shamed,
objectified, compared,
criticised one,
this purity of flesh and blood,
just as it is,
just for what it is,
a life-giving creature
of experience and love,
a shade-offering garden
of belonging
and spacious accommodation
of existence,
longing to just be,
to be beheld,
by this magnanimous gaze
of loving acceptance
and erotic celebration,
without the filters of comparison,
without the brutal gaze
of not enoughness,
no shaming for what is not,
when really what is here
is all there is,
a microcosm of the universe,
radiant and dangerous,
damaged and pure,
keening to know oneself as love
in the gaze of a holy eternity.

What if I could curl up
with this purity of love
for long enough that the world
within me would die,
and I could be born again
in the gaze of my own perfection.
My body unchanged
but the beholding made new,
intimate and innocent,
like a newborn star,
as yet unperturbed
by the ravages
of space and time,
and vast in it’s capacity.

So much time spent
on my knees in the dust,
taught by my culture
to ponder the shortcomings
of my facade,
berating the cracks and crevices
in the temple walls,
when all along there was 
a sensuous feast laid out for me,
and all the Gods
and all of the mysteries
dancing their wild
and sacred songs
How little they care
for the brittle surface
that houses their divinity?

Could this be enough?
The completeness of your dream kiss
and this devotional turning in,
towards the immaculate love
within my own body,
the temple which houses,
and through which I can know
the spirit of woman,
fierce and fertile,
unashamedly generous,
and the spirit of man,
implacably tender
and immeasurably pure,
in union as God
within me.

Maybe then,
and only then,
when I no longer need you,
might you come
and offer me
your mouth

in such a way.

Text and image © Lucy Pierce 2018

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