Circles

I am tired of circling what I love. I would like to crash into my sun. We once shared cells, the sun and I. We have been apart for so long. There is a longing under my skin, calling for that crashing, smashing oblivion. The fusion of light. Dissolving back into…

…who knows.

I am tired of being circled by what I love. The longing is growing under my skin. It grows. I will glow with it until the moon mistakes me for part of her swinging crescent. Swoops down and licks me into her skin. Buries me in her tides. We forget that we were ever apart.

I am tired of circling these hearts. I want to dip my hands into the liquid sweet of love. I want it dripping down my chin. I miss our love walks, humans. I miss your hands in mine. I miss how we used to dance.

A long time ago, we used to dance a circle dance. When during the day, while the sun was high, we would fight, as humans do. We fought about how the light hits something. I see it this way. You see it that way. When the sun is out, it is easy to forget that no one looks out with your eyes.

But a long time ago, we knew how to dance when the moon came out. We knew how to leave our words at the doorstep of dusk. We knew how to call out from our bones, what sadness has been living there. We knew how to dance to let the muscles fly out their trauma, their grief, their anger, their rage. And most of all, we knew how to watch with another seeing, the beauty of our dances. We could see now, with other seeing, how to weave medicine for another. Their grief dance needed our love dance. Their rage dance needed our forgiveness dance. And nobody taught us these dances. We just knew them. This is the way things were.

When the sun rose, we carried this web with us. Each dance forming unspeakable bonds between the parties. Until there was no body not connected to every other body. When I breath, you breath.

I am tired of circling this. I am tired of pretending to forget this. I am tired of being asleep. I am tired of not bringing your hand into mine. I am tired of not dancing your medicine awake for you. I am tired of not receiving that medicine web that only another can weave me. I am tired of circling what I love, you.