You Make Me Want to… {poetry}
{source}
You make me want to not hold back — to reach inside the prism of my endless lion’s heart
and pull out marching bands of love songs that will swarm around you with manic parade giddiness.
You make me want to walk to the cliff’s edge of my own pain and cut myself open on the rock —
watch the blood drip down, down, down, down until it becomes part of all that water.
You make me want to chant to my inner priestess, to meditate every day forever, to hold japa malas while masturbating
and drink green smoothies, and learn how to be a vegetarian, and get a dehydrator, so I can dehydrate mangoes
and then hand them to you all nonchalant when you need a snack, like, oh, take these dried mangoes I keep on hand,
so that you’ll be impressed by my penchant for exotic fruit and my super-prepared snack prowess.
You make me want to learn Morse code, so that if we were ever bound and gagged and held hostage, we could tap out a plan to save ourselves and everyone else,
and if the plan went wrong, I could spend the last moments of our lives looking at you and batting I love you with my eyelashes over and over and over.
You make me want to stand up in front of groups of people, and say with confident graceful growling Love can be everything. Did you know that love can be everything?
You make me want to track down everyone who ever hurt you and put them in therapy, and also slap their wrists with rulers
and also look them fierce in the eyes and remind them that I’m your Tiger Wife and I’ll eat them if they ever fuck with you again.
You make me want to get worse at opening potato chip bags, just so I can let you take over with your sexy, dexterous fingers.
You make me want to find a new word for love and lust and soul mate and power and ancient.
You make me want to dig ruthlessly into my own self, and put that self out into the world bravely
because that self is worth my total dedication, and it is valuable and useful to the good of the whole, and it is also fucking gorgeous.
You make me want to be an Empress to your Emperor, and rock our magic baby to sleep against my breast
while I find your gaze and bite my lip and whisper that I’m in love as she falls into a milk coma.
You make me want to combust your inbox with Spotify links to every song I’ve ever adored,
and show you my favorite stuffed animal, and get a shit ton of tattoos.
You make me want to call you when I’m on spectral vision quests,
and tell you about my altered dreams of Dragon Teeth and Star Feet.
You make me want to stand in the highest light of my existence beside you standing in the highest light of yours.
You make me want to twirl around in the shaft of source wonder that I know to be the ultimate reality.
You make me want to own the invisible and make art and art and art and art and art.
You make me want to love you with abandon, and love myself with abandon, and love love with abandon, and love being alive with abandon.
You make me want to hold everyone who ever said No to their heart
You make me want to rock them in my arms
You make me want to recite the words Yes Yes Yes Yes Yes,
like a prayer.
***
Jocelyn Edelstein is a writer, filmmaker and choreographer who believes that stories activate the human code of empathy and voice our animal truths. She has been previously published in three Best Women’s Travel Writing anthologies, Conscious Dancer Magazine, 3Elements Review, Commonline Journal, The Doctor’s Review and The Huffington Post, and she has written adventure copy for Hip Camp and thegorge.com. When Jocelyn isn’t writing, she’s making documentaries in Brazil and teaching dance in the Pacific Northwest. Her film work can be found at urbanbodyproject.com and her writing can be read at her blog.
***
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