Beloved

Walking through her forest as wind sweeps by, the spirit of the earth breathes under her feet and envelops her as she floats. Spirit-led she wanders through the trees, pausing for the sunshine. Beautiful, she.

Dusk settling. Alone she roams, no place in purpose, wandering. Leaves flow with her, show her the way. A sound. She turns, the crack of a branch capturing her attention, tensing her body. Eyes wide, she pauses, ears pricked. A spirit. Flowing form envelops her, bids her turn back, and dance. Whispering formlessness lifts her feet as she smiles upward, delicate feet pointed on the edge of breaking. Timeless, this. She, perfectly sculpted, fluid, paused, her form flowing, breaking free from the capsulated body that contains her. Something lifts and she begins the movement- rhythmically tapping her feet to the invisible noises that the trees sing and whisper to one another. She flows- beautiful.

Lovely, the mosses sigh beneath her feet as she swirls her arms between the outstretched branches of the trees. She spins, twirling around and around as the sun sets, a symphony of movement that crescendos as her last rays spread over the mountainsides and brush the tips of the forest, painting her last golden strokes across mother's canvas. Nature breathes- murmurs, dwells, drawn up in the dancers' form as she turns and spins, basking in the ecstasy that is being filled with the spirit of the living things.

The moon. She rises, dignified. A thread of stars manifest and dance, flirting with her soft afterglow that begs the stars come near. Yet the stars are wise- they laugh and dance far out, out across the sky, tiptoeing, light footed, fleeting, cosmic. In the fifth dimension she moves in and out of time, space to her is nothing confined. She laughs, alive. The universe and she, courters, lovers, dancers, each beckoning the other come be, come be- dance with me and live. Fire shoots, explodes from mother's sky, fierce with passion, alight with determination- she WILL be loved, she WILL be protected, if nothing but the fire of heaven stands between her and the darkness of absence- she WILL be known and preserved.

The stars call out, bid her caution- the fire bright, to go before her and preserve, protect. She stiffens. Paused. What beckons her, away? Does it yet belong to her belov-

Stop.

Concrete. What force is this? She wonders. Pauses. Nudges it: unmoving it remains, staunch. I dare you, it mocks. She pushes harder. It yields nothing. Rigid it is set as steel- angered, she shoves it, her hands bashed against this strength unyielding. Blood pours. Her eyes blaze. Curled scream, loosed, rises and shatters the air around her, yet still the wall remains. She kicks it, screaming, hysterical, begging, desperate for it to fall. Formed and dark, he manifests behind her, eyes coy, smiling sideways. Dark, his voice is silent and he speaks, grates against her tenderized soul, callousing as his words flow dead beats, drying the formlessness around her. Weakening, sapped, she gasped as one without air as he grew taller, stronger, the wall looming over, her form shrinking, cowering, fetal on the earth as one born from the womb she screams, soundless as he, gasping for the harmonies life as breathed into her from the dawn, and he screams, each pace a blow, chipping her vivacity away- blaming, cursing, kicking her in the abdomen, where life resides in her, new, slashing her shoulders, her legs, her feet, her back, her face. She howls, shaking body begging for mercy as he beat her, throwing her against the walls, blinding white, blood dripping down her fists, her ligaments tearing from swinging so forcefully defending herself, it's hopeless, she collapses, broken, battered, he screams in glee.


Free me, she whispers.


Lifted. She is carried away, eyes blurred, body limp, shattered spirit. Shallow breaths keep her heartbeats one to the next, irrythmic. Dust settles.


Ripples. Softly the winds stroke her face, gently they whisper. Beloved, beloved, they yearn- beloved, be brave. be strong. The morning, she comes yet, still. Be brave, beloved, and use the strength that remains. We, too, we will carry you to the place you need be. Peace beloved. Peace. Your time is yet come.


The winds, her sisters, whisper thus, beckoning her take courage, and rest. They breathe peace to her name, tenderly carrying her on their back, through the mists, the fires, the plains. They carry her up the mountains, far away from the evil ones that would do her harm.

They mount her up, and carry her back home to her resting place, to her fields and her lover, waiting for her return. He has never left her side, though the distance separated them thus- every blow she took he took tenfold, protecting her from the deep evil that assaulted. Yet he is strong, and steady. A warrior. He looked on as the wind brought his tiny, frailed dancer back to him, that he could tend to her, his own soothing touch and strong arms around her-

Oh Beloved, he whispers- You have returned to me.

And with this his arms envelop her battered body, softly, softly, ever so softly. He lifts her out of the winds, her head rested on his chest, and he walks on, carrying her across the fields to her home, with him, steady, firmly- and nothing would touch him. He was King.

Through long wintered season that followed, he nursed her wounded depths. Kindest eyes brought light and life back to her, looking on into her own frightened pools of fear, earnestness and love pouring back into her from his fingertips.

His peace he wove into a blanket that covered her as she slept, and in time, she strengthened, step by step, finding that her beloved had given her wings during her long time away: they had grown out of the scars in her back, and it was her delight to watch them sparkle and catch in the light, illuminating her with joy that FREED and lifted her off of the earth, joy bursting inside of her that spilled over and out and quivered her wings, the tips dancing as her legs and feet had once done before, but ah, now! To dance with the sun instead of below her, to serenade the moon and be beside her to receive her songs back, whispered into her ear, and the stars! To soar with the stars, that blessed moment as she took flight and gathered them all into her arms, and with a loud voice she sang and FLUNG them out, casting them to all corners of the universe, and they propelled and laughed and danced and joyously loved her for the peace and kindness and companionship she brought them.

Her lover looked on, delighted in her, singing, beckoning her come, come, dance- dance with me beloved- and as she approached he beams, face shining, spirit twinkling as it is his honor to dance with a lady princess bride such as his.

Their arms meld, intertwined, as they soar across the skies, blasting this way and that to the firing rays of the sun through the mid-afternoon, racing salsa through the wheat fields, twirling and spinning and caught up in the delight of each other: and as the sun set, slowly, slowly, slowly warming the forest with the last of her light, the pair softened, falling into each other gently, gently, gently, swaying back and forth, each to the rhythm of the stars that rose out of the leftover gleaming gems of sunlight, choir and chorus gently holding harmonies, beckoning peace, peace.......the moon beams with happiness as she reaches out her glowing arms, bidding the lovers sleep, rest, as her fingertips seep into their eyelids and gently draw them shut. They hold each other beneath her light, and the night binds them together, resting, safe, peaceful, slumber. Lullabies, the stars woo, and the lovers sleep deeply, in peace through the night.

I am my beloveds, and my beloved is mine.

He wanders among the lilies.