Saturday, 6 September 2014

A Love Song


I am birthing woman,

Birthing Woman.

I am 

A million years

Of words

Unwritten.

Hidden.

I am ancient

Breath.

I am your birth

I am your death.


I speak with body,

Not with tongue,

for this is how 

Herstory's sung,

With bent knees
Spread deep, 
and wide
I lean back
between 
her angel thighs
and hear the empathetic sighs
of sisters
since the start of time.
Alive.

The full moon
Of my belly
descends,
whilst you 
navigate
the spiral seas
towards me.

Like softly
splitting wood
the hood
lifts
and my clitoris
is
The Gateway.
Pomegranate lips
peel back
to reveal
the fresh fig top
of your
Crown.

Secret smile
open,
round,
bulging.
Full,
ripe seed
swells 
from within.
Pushing.
I
stretch
a mile wide
inside
out.
Cavernous mouth
surrounds
wet, warm
mound.
Soft like
ripe
peach
as I reach
down
into the space
between,
Un-seen,
to draw you
out.

We are two vessels
a-float 
On heaving tide.
Our guide:
An earthly tone,
The low-moan
anchor
of my birth song, 
our love song
calls us home.

Base drum
gushing
Deep hum
Rising… 

I am birthing woman,

Birthing Woman.

I am birthing

you 

are birthing 

me,

we

are birthing 

me  

as Woman

Our
syncopated
hearts beat
as we
breathe
on the edge
of this beginning:
we have been here before
riding on the crest
of a red
wave
as it crashes
into shore
and your
slippery form
swims
into
your father’s hands.

Suddenly, 
one becomes two becomes three,
as we
meet
for the first time.
We are new-born
Mother, Father,
Child;
and you climb
up ancient line
toward my breast.

Wise eyes
and familiar mouth
seeking
sweet liquid
Love
flows
between us
along pulsing
intertwined life-line:
Our Bloodline,
and we 
are 
outside of time.

We have arrived.

Floating
upon a river of milk
and blood
and we are 


in love.

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