. sacred spaces .

August 25th, 2012 · 0 comments

sore little body unfurling in a heated bath scented with sandalwood & rose. when i rise, i am a woman softened, ancient, the ghosts of things wild and sacred resting in the curve of my back.

small wrists. jungle hips.

we end the night moving silent on small bare feet through darkened hallways to a large island of bed warmed by boy, warmed by small cat and pagan prayer (a song held in the mouth, borne from heart & throat). there the hushed pages of books, the curling shapes of limbs, entangled. chilled air & the autumnal scent of woodsmoke ghosting in through my open windows.

solacing.
solacing.

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