In a past life I was a Warlord: cold. conquering. calculating.
likely multiple times with all this blazing “masculinity” roiling inside – Intimidating: as I’ve been called time after time ~ and I laugh at that because this rounding body of mine which is ‘me’ ~ that infinite ‘i’ ~ willfully occupies ~ this belly rolling outward and expansive and curving landscapes that i could not identify with for the stresses of pressurizing and internalizing when we – this ~ these ~ are shaped to shine and I wasted a lotta years on idolizing the hard sharp lines & i must have chosen being a womb’n now to learn the graces of bleeding on my own without dictatorship because there’s a wholly different battle being wagered between these thighs that i was taught to fight but that was never mine, was it – that hate and that denial wrought against the cusp of our Being;
sensual, in disguise,
intimate, i surmise ~
in a past life I was a Samurai and laid that body bare upon the sword to protect my Lord in service of which i did deliberately bow for country & home and all that armor was just duty in the eyes of royal blood but when I bleed now i bleed for no one ~ just me ~ gladly a womb’n of autonomy, meaning, i don’t need you – i don’t need your presence to feel secure and i as a creature who thrives to be free is not inclined to be kept – no, there’s no need, no sworn oath in this life’s round to another’s crown ~
but i want you
a choice as committed as outworn nobility permits for those who gave their life for us to start again and i commit to the choice, to the trusting in This for as far as threads woven from the past to future tenses are transformed ~ & i feel now, as i soften, as i root, as i touch upon the Power of this body i summon you through the threshold to taste what every living thing is reaching for ~ that is, c r e a t i o n ~ ever moving & ever changing ~
that is, what our eternal waltz of learning bears the sweetest fruit for; to what and to whom we are bound for ~ and I am watching you resist the words that rest poised at your eyes but do not reach your lips ~ and I know it is Love; unpossessive, liberating, timeless ~
and in our past life when we charged the front lines together there was no time to unwind on the nuances of our union – but maybe, this time, in this life, out from the dying field to the tender meadow of this moment ~ it will be different. Because I can name it now when then it was just shame ~ and what this womb’n body teaches here is how to shed and how to let a dying thing go ~ how to renew and be reborn when in our past life there was never a clear way to know
how good / how safe
our warmth could feel
in the Spirit of Surrender.