Black ink descended into my brain
And spread its weight through my veins.
Heavy, heavier than thoughts,
heavy, heavier than light.
Heavy as darkness.
And although I move slower,
The world spins,
The high heels click on the pavement,
The men turn their heads for curves and hair,
The children cry for ‘I want’
And I’ve slowed down with Her weight.
Moving in slow motion, though electrified.
I recall the light, when He flashed in,
And when She answered, using me as Their
Meeting ground – I was All, but spent.
Hold, they commanded. Hold your form,
It was for this you were born.
And the Heart, this centre, expands and contracts
And waits upon Their every whim.
And I laugh. What else is there to do?
Photo: Albert Vila