#1704

In my dream I am Tanim, unhappy crown prince whose only joy is found in my lover and bodyguard Daren. Even this bit of peace is wrenched from me with the death of my father as the royal crown passes to me. In his wake the country is left in turmoil and I have no choice but to set aside my own desires, take up the heavy crown, and lead my people. Yet all is not well even then, and on the day of my coronation rumors spread that rebels seek to attack the castle in retaliation for crimes my family committed hundreds of years ago. When a panicked servant seeks the royal party out on the lake’s island pavilion with word of a direct assault, I have no choice but to send Daren to investigate, the one one in my court I trust implicitly.

The choice is my downfall. Even as he disappears over the hill the servant turns on me, panic replaced by cruel glee as he reveals a sharp little blade. I realize my terrible mistake and reach to draw my sword as I jump back, but it’s too late – the knife cuts deep into my torso and even though I try to call out to Daren as I fall, my voice is barely a whisper. Somehow my lover must sense the trap anyway, or perhaps has been enlightened to the falsity, because only a brief moment of the servant’s triumphant snickering passes before he turns in terror at the sound of Daren’s enraged howl. The bloody blade is little use against the gleaming sword and the skillful one who bears it, and the servant collapses before he can parry or flee.

The dream switches, then, and I am suddenly Daren, kneeling at my slain prince’s side as I try desperately to staunch the flow of blood. The wound is too deep, though, and I gather him into my arms as I call for the boat to the brought to take us back to shore. As petrified servants row us back toward the distant castle and its skilled doctors, I watch Tanim slowly bleed out onto the boat’s wooden bottom. There’s little awareness left in his clouded eyes but I speak to him anyway, pleading for him to stay with me, to hold on, to be strong. Soon my entreaty turns to angry despair and I’m alternately cursing the heavens, swearing the Fates won’t take him, and begging that if need be I’ll give anything to keep him safe, if only some deity will come to strike the bargain.

A light flares over my shoulder and I turn to see a woman standing in the boat amid the somehow unseeing servants. She radiates light, her entire being crafted of the cold white of the full moon, and around her neck and brow coils a serpent like ram’s horns. “Why have I been called?” the goddess asks in a voice both thunderous and silken as her blazing eyes stare down at us.

The dream switches again, then, and I am myself, no longer crouched in a tiny boat but kneeling in a pool of clear water, my head bent and lips pressed to the cool surface. Beside me my girlfriend lounges, and as I lift my head she asks, “Is one of them here?” I know somehow that she asks about the snake goddesses and I answer that I’m not sure, for I don’t yet know if the goddess who appeared to Daren is of a real-world pantheon or from the dream’s medieval world. My girlfriend nods and responds casually, as if recalling a sweet nostalgia, “Briar loved them, but I never knew what the Sixteenth Person was.”

And then I wake, truly, and lay in the warm dark with the name Inanna on my lips.

#1654

Tell me how I can help you understand. I want you to understand. I need you to understand. I need you to see things, even if just for a moment, through my eyes. Our eyes. Other eyes. I need you to see there are myriad strings attached to me, each different and equally valuable, equally unbreakable. A delicate gold chain for the Mother, a ship’s rope for the Godmother, a guitar string for the sisterlover. For one of you, a silk tie; for the other, a wire garrote. Pull as you might, you won’t snap these connections, only yank me off-balance. These bonds are no betrayal to you, don’t you see they’ve always been there? If I have only recently found those on the other end of the lines, that doesn’t change the fact that the lines have always existed. No love is a threat to you when any love only strengthens my capacity to love you all. The others understand – can you not understand as well? I have wept and bled for you – how can you doubt me?

#1636

time moves differently with you and the graveyards which two years ago were all fresh turned earth and polished headstones are now full of weeds and crumbling mounds with names too weathered to read, and the lurking ghosts once poltergeist-powerful are nothing more than dust orbs and tricks of the light we dismiss with a laugh as we go on our way

#1630

If I could send a message back through the years, the interconnected webwork of memories and dreams, what would I tell the girl I once was? If I could reach back to that sixteen year old hunched over a keyboard in the dark, spilling out poems to an impossible ideal, what would I tell her? Would I warn her about the person she’ll lose, and mourn forever? Would I nudge her toward a different college major? No, I don’t think so. I don’t think I’d risk changing the future, the present, the path between the two. Too many butterflies flapping too many wings. But if I could pass a message back to her, I think I’d show her just a brief glimpse of this moment: of laying in bed while a beauty smiles over the rim of her guitar and a cat naps in the velvet lined case; of singing along, tentatively, because she wants you to and you want to make her smile. I think I’d show that sixteen year old her poems aren’t in honor of some impossible ideal but a living, breathing beauty who’s somewhere writing poems for her, too.

#1621

I think I like you, little warrior, with your fierce eyes and eager mouth, your callouses and tumbling locks. You have the heart of a wolf, the pack hunter determined to serve its role, defend its alpha. You have the mind of a swordsman, always on the alert for danger, ready to protect the beloved. You make love like an acolyte in the presence of her god, a knight pledging to his king. I could see you on board my ship, sailing the dark seas alongside myself and my godcrew. I could see you in my chambers, burnished skin and supple curves. Yes, I think you more than worthy of Us, to have come so far so boldly. So, little warrior, little wolf, are you brave enough to sail with me?

#1616

Are you gods without temples or holy books, or are you lovers without bone and blood? Is this polytheism or polygamy? Am I an unfaithful devotee or an unfaithful companion? If love is the earth within which grow the seeds of jealousy, tell me truthfully so I may tend my garden accordingly. No love should be sacrificed on the altar of another, and I have devotion enough for all who claim me. But I know love to be a fickle thing, easily angered, and I would not wish to incur the wrath of patron or paramour. Am I foolish to think I can give all of myself to all of you? That one heart, one soul, can be promised thrice or more? I am a vessel overflowing in the wellspring of love… can you not all drink from me together as equals?

#1610

My religion supports marriage equality. Surprised?

To be more specific, my patron deity supports marriage equality. My goddess is a goddess of joy, of love, of freedom. My goddess is a goddess of equality. My goddess is a goddess of victory.

My goddess is Bast, Lady of the Truth, The Light Bearer, and She celebrates with me today.

Last Saturday I did a tarot reading with Bast and asked Her what the week held for me. The first card She chose was Justice, followed by The Empress. Linking them, the Eight of Wands. Justice, love, and a great journey uniting the two.

I didn’t know what She meant then, but I do now. She was telling me today’s ruling. She was telling me today would be a day of justice, of triumph, of balance and equality. She was telling me we would rejoice today, Her and I both, because She loves me and cherishes my relationship. My love for my girlfriend is beautiful in Bast’s eyes, and when we are happy, She is happy. So today I wear proudly my goddess’s symbols and give my thanks to Her for blessing this joyous ruling.

Dua Bast!

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