Allegiance to the Undergrowth of Amour

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In the time that I have been living I have learned to weave my heart like spiders silk
a spinster sisters bestowal
All a tangle in the limbs of my lovers, a menacing knotted mess
of unabashed affection – Eros’s ever daunting thicket
this is the adoration of a wild one

That mess is my kinship and it’s potency my medium
this is my mother tongue. and to her I pledge fidelity
all at the hand of love

Such is the song of the journey, the longhawl incarnate,
wolves and other beast’s teeth, flesh and bone torn piece from piece
and renewed, again and again
to feed and be fed
satiating the hungry, the old ones half forgotten
We are sacred yes, but we thankfully are not unfuckable
so eat
– to then -as we do- become anew
all at the hand of love

So spill your simmered sorrow,
this grace is the bittersweet glaze of liquid death
a palatable pang dancing upon our tongues, unique unto it’s own
nourishing our bodies
if we let it.

Admitting we’ve not yet learned to chew, only offered a cesarian duplication of what “should be” –
-But then there is what “Could be”
We can choose, to be born in to the passage of becoming within the natural and birthrighten throws of heartache,
all at the hand of love

But what is this unbidden tenderness of which I banter on?
And how to attain the affections of a wild born woman-
Simple
-Love my end with you, whenever it may occur
Love me as if your spite in my passing will not override your amorous remembrance
Love me by your willingness to let me go-
Set no confinements or trappings for our interlaced Wildness-
for they are older and wiser than us both-
Heed this call, for the trueness of love-
and then I am yours
– as much as any wild thing could be

This path is not linear, nor will you find yourself unscathen
but there are certain things that lay resolute in my bones

from the day your heart began to beat, to the day it stops
from the time of beginning to the time of completion
to the moment the underside of your weary seastorm eyes become your last backdrop
this melange of experiencing, I will hold it all
all at the hand of love

So be this as it may, a continuing time of fluctuating elation, grief, understanding and deep relation – with everything
This love one day will read like a chapter closed, and thus a crippling wrinkle in a cycle that whispers hauntingly with utter devotion

“We will not go on without you”

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