jessegufinow

Oh that hearts really broke the way they are illustrated in art.
Just two halves with torn edges.
Or maybe pierced with an arrow.
It feels more like it should be represented by the unrecognizable road-kill decomposing on the highway.
Repeatedly rolled under the wheels of speeding vehicles until there is nothing left but the stain.

Something in the air today, a fragrance, the warmth of the sun has drawn me outside to look for the earliest sign of spring. I think I know why February seems to hold on so tight.

The snow has lain long on the land snuggling in close to every rise and fall of his fields and hills. Her recent flurry put another fine soft blanket over them hoping to make the winter last. For she has become still, very still, solid, and as earthlike as she will ever know.
The snow seems reluctant to yield to his nudge, but the earth has noted the strengthening sun and has awakened and stirs with life. A small sparkling rivulet begins to respond to his urgings. Slowly he awakens in her the desire to run over his courses. He gently moves her and gathers her in his arms, guiding her through his cut banks and riverbeds. You can hear the sound of her laughter as her joy increases. He loves the feeling of her moving over him in self-abandon. While he lovingly delivers her back to the sea, she has forgotten that it was against her will to leave his side. He has drunk deeply of her. She has quenched his thirst. She begins at once to seek her way back to him.

A funny thing keeps happening to me. I’m going to try to find words for it although it is entirely experienced in the wordless part of my soul. I love a beautiful man. He keeps setting me free over and over. In fact I think he has never tried to possess me at all although he declares his love for me and pours out to me his affection. I am the possessive one. Therein lies the pain. I keep relating to life in an obsolete fashion where walls, boundaries, and prison bars coral me into what I think is an acceptable expression of who I am. I project my concept of limitations on him and say No. This is not right. I must kill love. You must not love me.

Yet I dream of being the free and happy magical me. In a recent dream I saw my emergence represented by a glowing white cocoon high in a tree. Many hundreds of fine silk threads emanated from it and along the threads, from the core outward were moving these bright little lights. As they moved away from the cocoon, they grew larger and began to fly and swirl. I saw one fly up to me and hover for a moment before me. It was like no insect I had ever seen before. It was a perfect little nude woman with dragon fly-like wings glowing with a pure white light.

The next thing I saw was Tom standing in front of some sort of post or perch where a large bird had landed. He was unaware of the bird but closely related to it. In my heart I knew that the bird was there because it was the natural predator of the hatchlings. I considered alerting Tom to the presence of the bird so he wouldn’t frighten it away accidentally, but then I had to ask myself, would that be a good and desirable end? I said nothing.

So how is it that the beautiful man sets me free? Well, he keeps tearing down my walls of enclosure. He knows I would die of loneliness and lack of affection there. He encourages me to fly.

She turns but once in her orbit around her Earth.
He loves the comfort of the face she always shows him.
She moves and stirs the waters of his oceans.
Her captivity to him keeps him stable and safe.
She waxes and wanes with his sun’s borrowed light.
He endures her dark days knowing she’ll come around.
But light also shines on what he calls her dark side.
From there in silent longing she looks away.
Could she will herself free to blaze like a comet
To travel unbound not to serve but to shine?