A windowless, doorless cabin, lit in incandescence from hundreds of candles…a warm evening, sky of a soft melon pink, the trees and grass bathed in the aura of lavender…a serene pond of mirror perfection, nothing but nature to bear witness… standing at a butcher block kitchen counter, knife in hand, scrawling sharp sigils within honeyed flesh, halving pomegranates…adorned in a flowing white dress, I’m awakened to a presence, my body aware of an energy…turning…on the opposite bank of the pond, grass knee height, dressed in all black…he stands…staring…motionless, emotionless…I walk towards the edge of placidity…our reflections cast…a blue heron comes into focus, poetically turning its head, a recognition, first of him and then I…the mirror of star birthing sky, transmutates to obsidian scrying depth…and he walks towards it…stepping within the liquified night…his eyes never leaving mine…towards me he walks, and I towards him, one step closer for every three of his…until I relinquish the fear and give away the doubt…the release, running in thigh-high water…within his reach, he takes me into his arms…the heron takes off in silent flight, wings in curve above our heads, allow for his words, whispered to my neck, to echo and resonate within the darkness… …
E.A. O'Connell
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