The story of the Laurel and White Oak Trees

"Keep your guard up," he implores
He pauses in his lip path across the vastness
 Of the space between my ribs

Keep my guard up...

I hear the goddess wolf howl
Outside  my door
The near silent steps of padded paws
hunting

Can I reconcile my journey
Into the vastness of vulerability
With walls and guards, masks and even well meaning
moments of make believe?

When does the swaying embrace become
Softly sudden dancing?

Can your skin tell when the touch that sets it aflame
is igniting a cleansing slow incense burn
and not
a raging, devouring flame?

How strong are my feet rooted
In the sands and soil of love?
Even if they run tap roots deep as the 200 year old
white oak
With a trunk as wide as it is tall
Is that enough
if he chooses to turn away?

Shall I be like the she wolf goddess warrior
Medeina, refusing a partner
Protecting not hunter but
Forest?
Standing solo yet surrounded by wolves?

I know now I could.  I can.

And this is my story
My myth
I write my own rules
Set up and tear down my own boundaries

So barefoot, naked to my toes
With purple hair flaming
And my heart so hot my chest glows
My eyes close
So I can see clearly

I'll keep my walls up only to my knees
my tears as diamond male
Are all the armor I will ever need
Each cascading cathartic crystal
Cleansing every corner
Of my softly jagged soul

My roots run deep
Deep and wide as the centuries old oak
My heart guarded by the Medeina
But she is not me

I prowl with arms and heart wide open bare
beneath my crystalline armor

The questions are not mine
but his

Will he ask them?
If so, what will he say?

I have held death in my arms
And kissed it's dry, still feet
I have looked into the eyes of everything
and walked away, alone

And I cannot answer his questions for him
I cannot, in truth, even get him to ask them

I will keep my guard up
For my guard is my own tender, loving embrace
And being held thus,
I can see each joy as clear as
every scar that sews me and holds me, body and soul,
together
A golden veined tapestry of wood and blood and
root and fur.

I know what I choose.

Always