She found herself by the river. Ancient story, not his but hers. She held onto the sky and tended branches, like gardens. She rested and time wandered restlessly, only pausing for passage. Her feet were rooted and mud-bound, slippered in slime.The river washed past and presented a future that mocked the moment. Still she held on to the edge.
Shh, tread lightly,
The forest knows.
The Gods and Goddesses remain,
Eyes fixed,
Ready for flight.
Shh, listen carefully,
The earth is waking.
The warriors in action,
Arms raised,
Ready to heal.
Shh, feel deeply,
The heart is beating.
The branches connect,
Leave nothing,
Ready to love.
She knew she had grown into a beauty. For the forest whispered sweet nothings every day. She had fire in her belly and bees in her hair. Her roots dived deep into earth.
There is so little time. Every moment counts as the seas rise, bees die, hearts close over with fear and we sink deeper into the mire. We have no choice but to embrace, not only each other, but all we desire to be. For what is a future without hope?
Take note, said the Mountain, crossing the brink. Remember each moment is perfectly timed. The Forest remembered the call of the dreaming and swayed to the window of possible endings. Oh sighed the branches, we’re stuck on this theme. We want to evolve and toss off this dream. What say you, the fallen fingered her fleshness. We want to know reasons, sang beetles in hiding. I know the answer the grass replied smugly. Listen and breathe, the sun beat down softly.
She is faceless, nameless, unaccountably wild. Wandering, wondering, sweet inner child. Holding, cradling, earth in her bones. Woman in fullness, knowing her crone. Goddess and temptress, hands in the dust. Knowing the mysteries of loving and lust. Baring her soul, exposing the core. Not only human, she’s totally raw.
The ground shuddered quietly and groped at the reason. There’s nothing to know, sang the leaves on the ground. It’s all deep connection that decays and replenishes. And all has no purpose and finds it’s own season.
I said I would. I became the tree. White trunk, limbs bending to the heart of the mountain. For she is goddess. I am merely the dancer.
I catch the last rays of sun,
Of the last moment,
Of the eternal suffering.
Pavement glowing with anticipation,
Forward motion.
The crouching shadows,
Impotently grasping,
At impossible return.
Every step a fierce affirmation,
Of possibility,
Beyond the frame.
I catch the first rays of sun,
Of the first moment,
Of the eternal happiness.
photo ©Jeni McMillan
‘You step back. I fill the gap.
You step back. I fill the gap.
You step back. I fill the gap. You lean forward. I pause.’
I am on my bike. Black sky calls me. Mountain is dreaming. The moon asleep. I am awake. This mantra turns as my pedals carry me away, my ears drumming with the back-beat back there, glass drained, heart filled. I am alone. Full. No empty glass here. Not even half. I spill over. I sing to the distance between us. I remember your words. The moon rises. I fall. Into deep certainty.
‘You step back. I fill the gap.
You step back. I fill the gap.
You step back. I fill the gap. You lean forward. I pause.’
It’s the first night of Autumn here. Does that mean you are filling up with anticipated sun? Your skin bare in the first feeble rays? I am dressed by the hot death of summer. Breath still on my naked legs, back-pedaling furiously lest I cover too much ground. You wouldn’t guess. I know I seem fearless.
‘You step back. I fill the gap.
You step back. I fill the gap.
You step back. I fill the gap. You lean forward. I pause.’
There’s nothing to lose, after all.
Jeni McMillan 