It’s been several moons since Ocean Hawk took me to the Witch-Woman of the forest
She had taken a look at my breast and concluded
The skin around my areola had worn away
Was easily agitated
Gave me cream to ease discomfort
Just an aesthetic issue
One breast visibly changed for always
So shall it be
Should someone behead me
Identification can be made with a quick review of my chest
Carrying papers, formalities
Written not with the glow of his golden arrow
But with the stench of blood
Long decayed in battle
She is Kind
Gentle
Pure of Heart
She allows me space to grieve
My loss of Eros
Loss of the romantic notion
That Love conquers All
She is allowing my Trust to grow
Lately my dreams have been infiltrated by two
Aries
Eden
Sex from men
Love from Women
I've since been wondering
What do lesbians dream of?
Do gay men ever dream of fucking women?Do straight men dream of fucking men?
Or
Is it a bi-sexual thing?
A reincarnation thing?
Or simply
Is it a Lesley thing?
Isn’t Love just Love when it's all said and done?
When all our faces are removed
When all our stories have been told
Won't that be what remains of who we were?
Won't that be what we want others to remember most?
I feel the pebbles beneath my feet
The dust gets past my leather somehow and forms a skin beneath
The mud
The mud ruins everything
Until I reach the Ocean
I’m headed there now
Ocean Hawk remains at my side
I wonder at times
How long she'll stay
I remain,
Ever grateful for Movement, Love, and Humanity's true spirit - Goodness; and You, my Heartists and Warriors of Love, Humanity is You - it is Us,
Lesley
Hallelujah Heartist
