The lover of another covered me in kisses, her specificity dismissed for the bliss that we could witness. At first glance I was coy, but the division was elusive, my submission to the substance and her heart was most profusive. I watched skin touching skin and those satisfying sounds of lovers giving in to their passions all unbound, and the test was passed most surely by each in their own way, as the girls we felt emotions that came strong and held some sway.
Curves of bodies, moans of pleasure and disappearance into dreams, I can’t say it wasn’t lovely and heartbreaking at the seams, as you learn the look your lover gives the other all undone, and you cling to what you have because it’s all you’ve ever won. Still experience is effort, and we gave it as we got, the openness was awesome, battles won but never fought, for there is nothing gained in grasping at the fluidity of love, just some souls all pressed together, hope as pure white as a dove.
November 7, 2012
So, I’ve been doing a bit of a personal creative writing project for myself. I’ve been slowly rewriting stories of mythology into poems, and writing personal stories and histories into the sort of childhood fables/mythologies I recall from years ago.
This study of “personal mythology” is a process for me – one of trying to let go of the complications of our society, to take pieces of my family stories or self-stories and turn them into something far simpler. It is through this process that I attempt to exercise compassion towards people who have hurt me or been hurt by me in the past. It is a therapy, to some degree, and an exploration.
My first story ties into the tattoo upon my back. It’s the secondary meaning of my wings, the first meaning is for a different blog post.
The Tree & The Kokopelli
Once, long ago, a Kokopelli was dancing and singing his way through a great green forest, when he spotted a young tree. She was beautiful, small, with bright leaves and rough bark. He greeted her with his charming voice and asked if he could sit in her shade, to which she graciously affirmed. He leaned against her cool bark, and she asked him about what he’d seen in the world, and the Kokopelli told her. Continue reading The Tree & The Kokopelli
a burning bush
told me to seek higher ground
to build a boat and float around
for forty days and forty nights
of mighty rain and wind and dark
but there’s no wood for this ark
all the trees have been cut stark
made into paper for a billion Bibles
when all God needed to do was smile
and tell us one word from above: Love
Avens O’Brien, May 2006
Pin a wish upon a possibility. Play it safe, or set it free.
Procure a process for consumption, release presumption, let it be.
The chips they fall & scattered lay until we pick them up & say
with which we wished & hoped & prayed & counted upon our hand to play.
She speaks metaphors because she plays with what she’s yearning not to say
but when she pins her wishes high – stars can’t be seen throughout the day.
June 13, 2011