In Your Love. {poetry}
{source}
In your love, my body
is ecstatic, my soul
seduced by the
brush of your
warming, pollen-sparkled air.
Your unquestioning, courageous
touch teaches me
the way true
love lives, in the cells
of our common blood;
in the soul, we embody.
In the way we risk our names.
You take me
back to that darkly feathered
hand; the one that came for
my glistening heart
insisting I give art;
that I give everything,
seducing from me a vow
to romance
the soul of the world.
A vow you promised would cost everything.
I kiss you deeply. Again.
As I enter the softening
ground of the medicine
land of you; the land of
my deliciously alive, shattered
heart, you
work my tender,
sweaty body, rip me
open to receive
crystal shards of your teachings,
come to shred
ancestral layers,
sticky with outmoded cellular code,
invisibly carried,
trying still — beyond my devout knowing —
to give the slip
to this honeyed artistry.
I apprentice to the sacred
seduction of you.
You, the one;
the love I was born
to make.
The only vow I came to keep.
You, Red Earth, forgive me.
Red Rock, reverent,
I am your lover.
Scrub Oak.
Sugar Sunshine.
Crazy blue, orange sky.
Birdsong sweet.
Red-tailed Hawk. Owl.
Quiet Mountain Lion.
Pink quartz.
Hogback. Foothills.
Soft, dry wind.
Matted, wild grasses.
Underground Spring, feeding
Cottonwood, thirsty with knowing how
newborn Cactus
re-member my vow.
Ripped raw, I am
re-calibrated by the sacred
approach to you on my belly.
The same way I approach a sacred wound.
You have seduced art,
from my once distracted heart,
fierce love, from my once terrified body —
you know how to reveal my soul,
shake down my walls, melt my eyes.
Take me,
make me your mythic
servant-lover. You,
with darkly-feathered hands,
loving eyes of art light.
Trembling, tear-soaked,
I vowed to
romance you, knowing
that loving you asks
everything of my
aroused animal
body, my sweaty
servant-intellect.
My heart, obliterated.
I know of no other true way
to offer my broken heart,
open to serve you than
to submit
to the mystery of this romance —
to let the honey flow from my tongue
into your open river-mouth.
Here, I feel how the soul of the world
has been stripped raw,
needing a new word for ready.
Ready for a whole-cloth re-write of
our collective, tragic
romance with you.
I am your pen;
use me to deliver
your impatient invitation
to sacred reciprocity.
To the place
where you wait for every one of us
to muster the courage
to risk ourselves,
on bended knee,
in this mythic, reverent
romance with you.
In your love,
I find the courage
to dip the archaic pen
of my inheritance
in the blood turned
liquid gold —
the medicine
of your wound
and mine.
In your love,
I use this instrument
of the sacred,
of the holy
quivering with earth’s
embodied intelligence
to romance
the soul of the world,
to love you.
I am your servant lover.
Seduce me.
***
Melissa La Flamme is a visionary artisan of cultural evolution. As an author, poet, Jungian & shamanic psychotherapist and troublemaker, she kindles soul’s smoldering longing for everything real. She helps hack and track the smell of our longing to fully inhabit our life. She shows us how to enact our own prison break, from the inner and outer lockdowns we have unknowingly built. Melissa teaches the soul’s clandestine trade. The trade of the code-breaker of our one authentic life. The way of the Holy Hacker of our soul. The one writhing alive in our glistening, raving heart, vulnerable, ravished, undone and messy in a world where anything but is the safe way to belong. Visit her at her website, and on Facebook.
***
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