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She Places Herself Between him and chaos
Who can count the times she interposed her slender figure as she
Nosed herself twixt him and interminable chaos; a concubine,
A ghiesa, a comfort woman, a wife or prostitute like Red Sonya.
So much it availed she bided him to come as darkness of night
Fell to earth, where he himself, lying there under half lidded eyes,
Relieved by sweetness into the most soothing balminess of sleep.
Yes, he gave himself up to her-loved—loved, even unto the inner
Wilderness where no forgiveness exists but where he mostly felt assuaged
By the assurance that this woman would make all the pain disappear.
Yes, there were those who were certainly cuckolded by her; a Napoleon, a
Potentate whatever, but no one owned her for she partook and was a force
Of nature unto herself; claiming herself and whom she chose to love.
All the world’s lovers are sufficient unto each other for they touch and heal.
And who is there to judge, sanction or render a solitary opinion about
Women when their mystery is not known; I know this truth first hand.
We increase by the rapture of women because our progenies are the result
And who would say no more to them when satiated by their offering. Is
There anyone among us who does not long for mounds of Venus?
We grow abundant by them, like grapes in great years, because it is they
Who touch places that allows us to prevail, while they in their tender giving
Only ask to proffer magic in a world that is so much in need of them.
He partakes of her love and begins himself over only because she places
Herself between him and chaos; making sense where there is none and
Suffering the admonition by those needing love without understanding.
@2026 Sai Grafio
