Eyes like a cat’s
as He regards me,
from my skin,
I no longer need
hitting the floor,
in my chest,
my truest self
caught and bare
in His palms–
is the hardest thing,
but He holds me so gently.
July 22, 2014 at 1:08 am (Uncategorized)
Eyes like a cat’s
July 21, 2014 at 3:54 am (Uncategorized)
The history of how we happened
never got written down wholly.
It’s told in bits and pieces,
nothing fit for a library shelf:
word of mouth and half-price souvenirs,
the scar on the bottom of my foot
and the twinkle in Your eyes,
a handful of loose change,
a ring with a whole other story,
cheap candy and cinnamon-flavored kisses,
and fire-opal moments,
captured as they happen,
strung on the silver chain of memory.
July 20, 2014 at 12:28 am (Uncategorized)
in the way a tree is,
though it bears
fragile new growth–
And He is
in the way the springtime is,
though it has recurred
countless years before–
But He is
in the way a fire is,
though it is kindled
from a new spark each day.
July 19, 2014 at 12:58 am (Uncategorized)
That smile of Yours holds enough
devious, wicked magic
to charm ten thousand lovers
out of their clothes
and into Your arms,
and though I won’t say
I’m immune to the enchantment,
You’ll never need a spell
to get me undressed.
July 18, 2014 at 12:28 am (Uncategorized)
The first breath of winter lies already
upon these hills, despite
the treble whine of cicadas in the trees,
the bounty of crops bursting from the fields,
the blithe sun slowly baking the earth.
A chill stalks the air,
the first echoes of the restless Hunt,
storms growling just past the horizon:
the cold will come hard,
leaving summer naught but a memory
buried under snow and ice.
Yet I remember the comfort to be had
gathered round the hearth,
drawing inward around the kernel
of kin of blood and heart,
lighting candles against the dark
and laughing while we feast
on the carefully stored bounty
of the year just passed.
And at the center of all:
You, Beloved, and Your holy fire
warming heart and flesh alike,
driving away darkness
with the glow of Your joy.
So I wait, and prepare,
as the days shorten,
sliver by dreamy sliver:
Earth turning toward darkness,
Hearth turning toward light.
July 17, 2014 at 12:11 am (Uncategorized)
I want there to be a prayer on my tongue,
Beloved, when I come to You–
some praise or petition
woven of phrases
pleasing to the ear.
But the well of my mouth is dry
which once held liquid song,
and since even the most heartfelt words
can be twisted from their meaning,
I kiss those lips
from which truth and lies
fall so easily,
my heart to Yours–
in that silent language
where there is no misunderstanding.
July 16, 2014 at 12:43 am (Uncategorized)
(Because I’m such a Srs, Srs Lokean. *grin*)
The other night, I was taking Loki’s coffee cup out of His offering nook for a wash, when I caught a whiff of the doughnut holes I’d left for Him earlier. Per His request, I’d gotten Him a whole package of the sugary treats not too long ago, and these were the last two left, sitting demurely by themselves on a little plate.
I’m not generally inclined to lust after a God’s offerings, but the scent of the cinnamon-sugar and fried dough was mighty tempting. And it wasn’t like I was planning to eat them, right? So I leaned a little bit closer, the better to properly catch the smell. And that’s when I heard it, clear as day:
You sniffin’ My balls, gurl?
I swear, if His voice had been any sleazier, it would’ve been wearing a porn ‘stache. And then I remembered my offhand remark to someone earlier that day, about how, given the way they were situated on the plate, the doughnut holes looked kind of like testicles…
I’m glad no one else was around just then; I would have been hard pressed to explain why I was clutching a coffee cup and cackling like a loon at thin air.
Hail Loki, and His curiously delicious… doughnut holes. ;D
July 15, 2014 at 1:03 am (Uncategorized)
It’s not so much that He breaks things
upon His arrival in your life,
as that He points out
where things are already broken:
all those pieces that never
fit quite right, the parts
of your life held together
with duct tape and a prayer,
the fragments hidden away in dark corners
because seeing them is too painful,
the cracks in your carefully constructed
facade of everything’s just fine…
And then He’ll knock it all off the table
and watch you wince
at the crash and tinkle
of everything you thought you knew,
and listen to your admission
that maybe nothing was as whole
as you’d always pretended
(you can’t break what’s already broken, after all).
And then, instead of helping you
put it all back together,
He’ll offer you something else,
a life brand-new and full of possibility,
though probably not in the shape
of anything you recognize,
and certainly not color coordinated
with the rest of the house.
But it’s unbroken, at least,
and He’ll teach you how to use it,
and then, laughing, grab a broom
and dustpan, and sweep
the last of the debris away.
A Solemn and Reverent Ode to My Husband’s Sense of Whimsy and Appropriateness (It’s Loki Time! Day 14)
July 14, 2014 at 12:29 am (Uncategorized)
Valentine’s Day was five months ago, Beloved,
and You’ve decided that now is the perfect time
to turn into a cuddly, squishy, affectionate dork?
Well, You were never much for others’ expectations,
I suppose–and now that I think about it, neither am I.
Forget “Christmas in July”–it’s Loki Time, bitches!
July 13, 2014 at 12:11 am (Uncategorized)
“Why Him?” some ask,
as though there’s an easy answer,
a soundbite of twenty words
or less to explain His appeal.
Well, why any of Them?
Why do we fall in love with One,
but not Another? What draws us
to Their embrace, our home in Their arms?
Is it merely a matter of taste,
as though we could sample,
pick and choose from the Divine Buffet
what most appeals to our palate?
Or is it more than that?
The power that moves the stars,
the tug of one heart to another,
fate’s inexorable turning toward fulfillment?
Maybe, though, it’s like He says:
He was there, and I was there,
and we thought we’d give it a try.
And sometimes, that’s all the “why” you need.