After an evening spent moving through the shit
that is both of ours, a lifetime of collecting and storing crap,
as well as avoiding the messes we've each made,
I wandered out and onto these Encinitas city streets.
What's different this time is that I've surrendered to fully accepting
another who fully accepts me. Together, we dig in and do the work.
Under a tropical sky, a light mist beegins to fall
as a brillaint rainbow sits perched over head.
The Universe always responds.
It always responds.
My trusted feet carry me home.
Along the way, I reflect on our night together
and how you painted me red with my own menstrual blood.
An initiation rite of a High Priest and Priestess
during the dark of a New Moon.
We are Re~Claiming our Power.
And it isn't about money or fame.
It's not about fitting an ideal or embodying perfection.
In fact, it is quite the opposite as you remind me
when I return to find you bawling your eyes out.
"Show me your body," I say, as you stand whimpering in a towel.
Without pause, you open it. "You're beeautiful!" I declare, as you collapse into my arms.
"I've never shown anyone my body," you share. "I always hide, it in guilt and shame."
"You are gorgeous," I reply, caressing your cheek, holding your shoulders, looking deep into your eyes. "Your weakness, and softness. Your imperfections and vulnerabilities. All of you -
absolutely perfect."
And we're sick and we're tired of trying so damn hard to fit somebody else's ill-conceived molds.
We're exhausted and spent from chasing after ideals
that just aren't human.
We're done.
We're broke and we're broken
and we're okay with that.
We have taken our power back.
