Becoming an us.

So long held in the strength of self,

warrior, mystic

all lone things.

Tempered with age.

Swan takes long in her becoming,

and wolf, after an era as lone, mates for life,

and births a pack, a tribe

from the union of two fiercely independent beings 

willing to practice togetherness.

Boar tusks interlock with goat horns 

and worlds are ripped apart in our stubbornness.

Then hooves move in tandem

stirring the compost,

aligning the rocks,

preparing the bed.

Learning how to hold the obsidian mirror,

to shine on each other’s darkness;

and the crystal,

to magnify each other’s light,

How to not lose one another

in the long shadows 

we ourselves cast.

How to build a love that lasts

through storms of fire

and the falling of empires,

the poisoning of oak

and the raging of what is broken, 

sweetbitter, 

the tender tinder 

within us

that would fuel a phoenix flame.

Your body perfectly fits mine.

Inner sanctum of my heart 

unlocks to the impression of your hand on my breastbone.

Harmony is born of very different voices

coming together in one song,

and though the tune at first seems strange,

our souls have known it all along.

Our crowns forged in the fire

we feed every time we turn towards each other:

the journey from co-dependence to independence to interdependence.

Unique pillars hold the temple roof

but they are hewn of the same stone;

the story of us written on every shared breath,

lips lost to the illusion of separateness;

the trees’ roots and branches intertwine,

two trunk hearts carved with one name:

mine, yet also yours,

alone, all one, together.