Master Shaman

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I don’t know how to describe the way

you beckoned me

with the subtle gestures

of your dreaming

back to you,

back to your tribe.

I just know

that you showed up one day,

in your black pick up truck.

You came for me,

feigning shyness in such a genuine manner

that it matched my own.

I greeted you in pale pink.

You embraced me, grasped my hands in yours,

and your wrists were adorned with silver and turquoise.

Your voice was soft and worn

as an ancient whisper,

gravelly with desert sand

and the language of the mesas,

the rhythmic intonations

of your native tongue.

I was struck

with the strangeness

of how familiar you were,

even despite the fact

that I had never really known you

that well.

Yet I felt the presence of my old love

lingering inside you like a shadow.

He was there with you

even as he wasn’t.

Like a father and son,

like Er and Judah

with Tamar.

I knew

about your powers.

I knew

you could see,

with eyes of

visionary artistry,

the invisible threads,

the divine loom,

the sacred weaving

that holds this mysterious tapestry

of life

sewn together,

as I do.

In your letters,

you described to me,

with exquisite detail and accuracy,

the adornment of my own inner corridors and rooms,

the delicate landscape of my imagination.

You journeyed with me

inside that realm,

a Master Shaman.

You were an unexpected gift,

a medicine

for my heart.

I did not imagine

that my past

would return

to claim me,

that I was still

so cherished.

When you held me close,

I breathed deep

of the warm depths of my personal history,

feeling your love,

enveloping, expansive,

doubled by its hidden twin.

Like an old lover coming back for more.
Just what fits.

Pondering Erotica and Sex

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I am still processing what happened yesterday, when I discovered that my blog was designated “mature” or “nsfw” by WordPress. Anyone who is curious about that event can take a look at the forum thread at http://en.forums.wordpress.com/topic/posts-not-showing-up-in-wordpress-reader?replies=9#post-1914835

I acknowledge that my blog does contain sexual content and that some of the photos could be considered a bit risqué, though I have definitely never posted nudity or pornographic images. Anyway this incident has caused me to think more about society and sexuality and the representations thereof within our culture. Specifically I am wishing to define the difference between erotica and pornography for myself.

I should say that I have almost never even seen pornography. I know that sounds kind of bizarre for a woman who is regularly writing erotica and erotic poetry. However pornography has simply never appealed to me. What arouses me are thoughts, sensations and impressions, and not necessarily images from the media.

I have been masturbating since I was about three years old. Arousal and orgasm for me as a young child was never associated with any person or sexual act per se. It was a pathway deep inside myself to touch the divine, to feel my spiritual wholeness. Thankfully that pathway has never been compromised by any molestation, sexual abuse or experience of rape for me in this lifetime.

My first boyfriend, who I dated in high school and college, became interested in pornography at one point. I found his porn collection when I was cleaning his bedroom as a favor.

I felt uncomfortable with it. I sensed a darkness around it, a feeling of objectification, degradation.

One time he told me something that really touched me, he said “Lonely guys need pornography to be as empty as it is. If a lonely guy were to watch a movie of a woman making a beautiful meal for her husband, asking him about his day, giving supportive advice, cuddling in his arms, and making love to him, he will break emotionally.”

I understand that pornography meets a wide variety of needs and it is not always as simple as that. I do not look down on those who like pornography or use it; I simply feel it is generally lacking the depth of spiritual connection and artistic inspiration that can be present within sexual experience.

I have tried in my erotica and erotic poetry to share my own perspective on sex, the holistic depth of it, the emotional, spiritual aspects, the connection to other humans, the connection to nature. I share my writing to express myself and if it touches others and creates the space within the mind to weave sensuality and sexuality into a more fully integrated tapestry within the psyche, then that pleases me.

I can understand the position of WordPress related to the Reader. A person could easily be searching a topic like Christianity and end up looking at a pic of my boobs and a poem about about a sacrosanct tryst https://eroticapoetica.wordpress.com/2013/10/25/the-temple-of-the-mother/. Yet to me this is not necessarily wrong. This is spiritual and artistic expression. This is my truth. Even if it’s not necessarily safe for work…

Bittersweet

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When you returned,
the day felt bright
like new paint
and our forms freshly drawn
by the nimble hands
of God.

Our kisses were sweet
as spring strawberries,
dripping with juice.

We were lovers
once again,
refining and polishing
our art
like careful masters
on the canvas of tragic need
that is the body.

I was a mermaid
drowning
in the sea
of you,
in delicious oblivion.
You tasted
salty like my tears.

In your arms,
agony and ecstasy
seem to become
one and the same.