. wave .

                                                                   


. wave .

She's on the front edge of it; it is building and she can feel that lifting surge. There is a heat behind her ears just before the hairline; subtle shades of emotion and time slowed growing feelings of lightness. In her stomach, a comforted feeling of settled needs and lack of rejection. Falling away of any distraction and her intensity grasps all that is the essential, clinging, digging in, keening and narrowing. Her shoulders relax and she bends her legs to take the balance evenly. There is no friction to it, no rusted mechanical hesitation; she is readied, she is muscle memoried and instinct. The quiet and then the sound of her own heart in a perfect pace with it; not silence, not vacuum, it is possession; she owns it. She is singularity gravity drawing all within her pull of shape to serve her. She has her chin down and is looking forward to it from beneath her brow, it rolls on, it rolls on, it rolls and she is within it. Her eyes are focused and her pupils wide in expansion. Her arms are held out and slightly forward her fingers as though gloved and protected are at ease and move in explorative motions into it. Energy, the frightful power of it serving her, all within its motion, within its pressured perfect melting flow scowered and sculpted round to its shape but she. It favors and collapses and then surrounds in welcome. She is singular yet not alone.

She rises from its remnants; it withdraws reluctant pulling at her legs, then feet, and then abandons her leaving traces to taint her skin with kisses of surrender and invitations to return to its cold salted touch. Her tool beneath her arm she turns and returns its wide-open stare. '… another waits for me above, beyond your reach … I won't forget … we'll join again …'

© Amanda 2013 2.15.2013
Image: "Waves" by




for Megan Sophie ... we ... in flows of currents ... survive