I Bloom: This Love Heals Me.


Spaciousness and relaxation fan out. They become, and behold, in the many arms of beauty. 

The struggle is over. The war no longer wares on. 

I've reached a new place. 

I have not been here in so long, if ever---

Stable. Secure. Content. Happy. 

Yet, none of this is boring as my past self may have feared---

I am positively electrified. 


I look to no other, my insides are clear, windows, a mirror that shows me the way---and I trust it. 

This love is healing me. 

In his arms, I melt through and through.  

All muscles cascade into the soft basking of relaxation. 

Certain for once that there is no threat.  The reign of tyranny is over. 

I stand, illuminated in the 3.p.m. sun---




As I stand with him in the river, by the lush greenery that smells and sings of the rainforest. 


I lay on my back and surrender, opening like a thousand petal lotus

I open because his hands are roots---and yes, I have roots of my own, but he helps me ground ever further, even deeper

And I 


I bloom in this love. 

I have never bloomed like this. 

I look up, undisturbed and see his smiling face, and I know

And I feel

And I know by feeling

Who I am

That I am better as I sit in the soft mouth of this love 

Lush, pink, pillowed

I reach for nothing---that is illusion. 

I melt. I receive. And in this, I get closer to the earth 

To hear the jeweled whispers that become this poetry

My healing 

And safe---I am so safe. 

I am appreciated. 

And I appreciate him. 

This love heals me. 

No longer exhausted or weary---I celebrate and become. 

I bloom in his arms, in the water

Each bud becomes a word

Words I keep and give away

The giving away making them mean something

And there is something grand about all of it, crowned and regal, plush and purple, draped in nakedness and mystery in the plain sunlight---

My Queen, me---

I am born in love. 

That is simultaneously the beginning, middle and end of my story. 

I become Queen because he is willing to exalt me. 

And I am willing to accept his devotion, unwavering. 

It does not waver. 

And this---this is the gift of the divine masculine. 

It's medicine. To hold true and tight: to connect, to provide, to protect. It's an elixir, but it does not make me drunk---I am pleasantly sober and even more fleshy and raw and here. To me, that is euphoric. 

I receive. And it is delicate, but not ephemeral:


And in this, beauty flows into me. 

I tilt my head back and receive.