Day 2. Still

I listen. I hear.
Nature. Nature. Nature. Nature.
This is a death.
Flowing waters, blowing breeze, dancing trees.
Curled, wrapped up under the branches ~ above the roots. Held in the space in between.
A soft solidness grounding me, encasing me.

I see. I look.
I long to look closely. Study every detail.
Your shapes, your textures, your scars and your shades.
I long to know you so vividly I can see you with my eyes closed.
I long to draw on your beauty, embracing you fully, as you are. Right now.

I long to see you with my hands.
My delicate fingertips tracing your outlines, your crevasses and textures.
I long to pick you up, to hold you, your weight in my hand.
I long to feel you. The warmth. The wet. The cold.
The hard and soft.
All of you.

I will take my time with you.
Slow right down. So you barely feel me, yet you know I am present.
So present with you.
I will listen. To you. With you.
You will hear me.

A moment of stillness, of slowness, for us to connect and embrace.
To remind each other of our love.

I long to be held by you, your strong embrace.
You hold us, allow us and feed us.
You are so multidimensional, the elements so profoundly present within you.
The touch of your skin is so real.
From the damp mossy valleys, rich and abundant.
To the vast open deserts, empty and alone.
Your richness is so vast.
Your qualities so varied.
And you are always present.

I will practice with you great mama.
For I know you can hold and hear me in it all.

Thank you deep bleed for reminding me how bloody simple we can be.