Euphorie

I see clover

and plantain -

blades cut off.

I see old steeples,

an old woman cleaning cobwebs.

Rolling distant mountains.

I hear 1001 cars going somewhere,

his feet on the gravel,

a school boy calling out

for a ball maybe.

I see abandoned buildings

that will soon be funky

loft apartments - closer and closer

to their destiny.

I see old stone walls

protecting.

I feel the wind in my hair

the juice in my loins,

the desire to be touched

lovingly.

I feel the air under my skirt,

my belly breathing on the earth.

I wonder what the bald fellow 

makes with his ropes - he is gone.

I wonder if there is a private place

for me here to experience

my own ecstasy?

I wonder how one meets someone 

to share this purpose - 

truly, safely?

I imagine rolling, tumbling gently

with another on this green

space.

I imagine being taken by surprise

by a serpent 

entering my skirts from below -

breathing his breath

on my wetness.

Then licking gently, softly.

The freedom to moan and scream

here would be sensational.

C'est où le bénévole??

I invite you in.

I imagine practising my temple priestess - blessing-

maybe the bald rope man with a dance of energy - a

calming - a gift of energy - 

a washing.

Will anyone notice if I just 

come right here,

secretly on the Earth.

Rising energy.

I must do something with it.

This juice is too much.

Or is it?

No more spoken words for now.

Just quiet and magical

movement.

In, out.

Rhythm is inside you.

Pulsing.

Calling up Earth's energy

to meet the sky.

What are you afraid of?

Let it go.

Just let it go.

People watching people.

Keeping space.

What do they really want?

What do I really want?

Am I willing to receive it? Truly?

There goes the 'boy writing words'.

Sarah Priestess

August 30, 2007

Ville de Québec