She was used to roaring at the wind.
Wild and loud she would proclaim her destiny.
A fireside flame with embers to sprinkle on crumbled earth.
She was used to the echos of her voice.
The way it would always crack just before the sound would hit a wall.
The way it trembled her soul and made her heart weep.
It happened this way and that she would bellow.
Fast then hard, loud then soft.
Matted hair across her brow and dew drops sliding down her back.
The wind would just turn the other way letting her slip by.

He stood ground before her bellows.
His feet firm in the earthen soil cradling his feet.
She was fierce in her knowing, in her becoming.
Her small body erupting like a hurricane across the grass.
He watched with still eyes, his mouth just barely open.
The oceans parted and the mountains shattered.
He never moved.
Her fists wailing with the thunder, her wrists crackling like glass.
It happened this way and that she would bellow to his stature.
It happened that way, you know, she hushed as she tired.

She lit every flame and wailed every cry, her teeth split wide open.
She thrust every fist into his air, shrieking her rage against his wind.
She pierced her eyes like blades into his soul, her bark to his heart.
It happened that way, it will happen this way, she moaned.
She sliced skin with her voice, grazed lips with her tongue.
She bled and she wept, she barked and she fell.
He never moved, never faltered as she whipped up her body.

Then slowly he went to her, his arms ready to hold.
Then slowly he slipped those arms to cradle her flesh..
It's time to go now, he whispered in her neck.
Too tired to fight, too tired to guard, she surrendered her skin.

It's happening this way. Not that. He said as they left.

Christy Funk

Christy FunkComment