Winter Body And The Wild Feminine
The Winter bodies of ancient women are hidden bodies that love themselves under layers of warmth.
Soft and smooth, round, naked in front of a fireplace, intoxicated by wine.
Bodies that have been removed from the eye of society in trade of something the sisters of Summer can readily make available but that are not the whole story of Woman. I will let them write their stories, as beautiful as they are they are not my own.
I am a Woman that loves the cold.
We are softness here, because softness survives the harsh Winter winds with grace and because we enjoy our wine, our braised meats, our homemade breads. We planted all Spring and Summer and so we will enjoy the fruits of our Harvest,
We walk for hours in the cold, we take the children everywhere, we carry the wood indoors, we move, we cook, we make love. But we also sleep, we read, we stay in silence for hours if we can. There is not much to say, mostly there are worlds and hands to feel, mouths to caress. Bodies to drink from.
We take our bodies into warm baths and cold showers, we burn incense and light candles at night. We feel, we feel. We feel.
We cry with Nature and laugh with Her too, we surrender our plans to her in trade of being present for life in this simple way, we take him in and are made stronger by his desire, we release ourselves from his need, and his need becomes his own. He is alone for once, and this is his moment to return to something new. We see him, he sees us. This is what is needed.
He travels to me but he does not linger, he is a passenger like me, an adventurer of life seeking to know himself. We are temporary homes because we recognize the bigger home that is Her, Her womb, Her perfect embrace.
We are made for winter, and because of that we are made for everything because it all begins here in this place of ice cold emptiness. They see death and we see the promise of Life that is the genuine Life.
I offer him my Winter body, my real body, the one that exists because I do too, the one that is built from a life that is real and authentic, all Woman, all beauty, all wild and free. I roam outside naked and unafraid, only me and the darkness, and the caress of the freezing wind.
And I moan in that place, I surrender to the natural, where my skin is perfect, my breasts are perfect, my curves are perfect, my being is not possible to be judged or picked apart because I only exist for myself and for my touch, and he knows he is privileged to be a witness of it and be received by me.
I am not a temple, I am a Woman, I am the Universe touching the fire with my hands and when I touch him he is anointed and I am transformed by his devotion and his pleasure.
My pleasure is everything. I see no separation.
I am a body of Winter, a grandmother of Life, sexuality that transcends understanding, that has been shunned and denied, and deeply craved.
I am body that has found home and it feels like a river of ice cold water, that only a fire burning heart that remembers itself can ever dive into and draw power from.