She’s starting to sense my presence now. Its taken a while for her to locate the space I occupy.. She wanted it to be an easy thing and I understand why. She’s carried burdens faced barriers and sabotaged her own thinking trying to find a place to fit. To learn the name for her peculiarities. So certain was she that it was hidden in the hearts of cold hearted men she nearly bled out trying to warm what was frozen.
She wanted me more than she understood, needed me more than she could know. She just couldn’t bring herself to believe she was worthy. Not enough to be chosen. That didn’t change the story. Her fears and trauma changed nothing but time.
Now look at her with her hands in that cornbread, she knows how to conjure now. How to find the corridor with her rhythms. It is reverent touch that summons us. The fingering with longing and love of, her photo, his hat, it is walking barefoot where she stood, he kneeled, it is in the food she cooked, he ate. We sway with the rhythm of your hands on the foods we prepared and soothsay our wisdom in whispers. (see below0)The space has been made, she has surrendered her children to their choices, her mistakes to the abyss, her delusions to the wind and she listens in the way only the vetted can manage. Now,to see what we can create.