Longing

Let me tell you:
She has the power of the Earth
this Gypsy Woman
with her woodsy skin
hair of shadows
ocean eyes
feet that hold the ground in place
and delicate medicine woman
healing hands that are
stronger than the warriors’.

She commands the room,
makes tribemates of me
and also whomever she meets
with her confident and boisterous
attentive voice.

Can you imagine the power
of laying with this woman?
The mystery of this still
eludes me, entices me,
wakes me in the middle of the night
with the craving of a hungry chick
waiting, gape-mouthed for mama to return,
never sure if she will.

This is hard work, feeding my soul,
work that commands that she
stop, sit down, withdraw.
I’ve only caught glimpses of her
in her den where she quietly
rekindles her spent flames
feeds herself simple foods of
solitude, silence, self.
I know this is the source of her power.
I admire and pine for her
to teach me to do that for myself
and feel the longing for her return.

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