Forgive Me Father

© 2007 Sandra Jean-Pierre

Forgive me Father,
for I have sinned...

It has been
half a year
since I last tasted the salts of a woman.

It has not been for lack of effort
or torment of soul,
for truth be told,
I hungered for her vernal flesh
with my entire being.

The way her back
curves soft,
over me in the moonlight,
I have been remised

No longer do my eyes
grow wide
from the sight
of her breasts

Instead I keep company
with the many nights
of our memories
and these cold, hard sweats

Forgive me Father,
for it has been 6 months
since the last time
I shared in The Lord's gift of passions.

If I could,
I would have rationed
myself, three nights throes
from this addiction

Instead, I would have
indulged in her kisses
and done away with what
I thought was my calling
in making her a Proper Mrs.

I have sinned, Dear Father,
I have sinned!

It has been 24 weeks
since last I grew weak from
the elixir of her
volition's

since I succumbed to
her wicked woman
insistence that
I have more of her
NOW!

Oh...
dear God...
My judgment -
it clouds,

with this prolonged
withdrawal of my
lips from her mounds...

Could it really have been
900 hours? Since I took her
last to see the face of God?

My prayers must not have
been enough,

for she is gone from me
and I am left in this misery
of self loathing.

Oh Father,
Please forgive me,
for I have sinned against God Himself!

for shirking my
responsibility, my noble duty
of creating love on this Earth...

Of these sins
I
accuse
myself!!

Forgive me Father,
Forgive me...

Not now, Not yet!

by Yemaya - december 07

For Cha and Cris

This seems to be a repetitive refrain in my life.

Forsaking the past, I vowed to change it. " yes now, yes here"

4 years trying to mold what was visible to my heart's eyes.

A future where you would welcome me home.

Mornings spent talking while brewing the coffee.

Afternoons making love while flirting with the sunset.

Nights for Yemaya, you and I.

Embracing the present, I run away from a similar refrain.

I've heard it all...the sweet words, the loving words

A convincing voice is promising a different shore.

I violently withdraw from the negotiations.

Am I equipped for the Goddess, mine, truly mine?

Yes now, Yes here

She will say to me:

Here I am for you. Now. And Eternally.

Sacrifice

I have started a cleansing of the soul this past Monday with a 40-day fast and prayer. This morning, I burnt your letter in front of my altar. I couldn't keep it, I couldn't send it back to you. I mixed its energy with Spirit.

For these forty days, I want my body to wake up to itself, to feel and experience pain, suffering and joy. I want to know the deep end of anger and discover its most fiery face. I want to break my hand into life's walls and lick the blood slowly going down my skin. I want to scream with a fury, with a voice I didn't know I had.

No more "I love yous" that stop half-way. I love you but....

I love you but...

I love you, mon cul!

Women's Work

© 2007 Sandra Jean-Pierre

Down to river
slowly we tread,
I in back, you in the lead

Untidy bundles
upon our backs, beneath our arms

I carry the buckets,
You the washing powder...

In silence,
we minister
to the sweat stains,
the work stains, the aroma of our human-ness

cloudy swirls
on rivers' surface,wash down and out and away,

leaving river clear again...

In tandem
we develop our rhythm,

yet

through the corner of mine eyes,
I spy your scent,
dripping from the precipice of your nose

Being wife,
I stand, grabbing the hem of my blouse
and wipe your forehead.

This chore,
this cleaning,
we women,
doing this women's work...

Laundered lives,
now hanging and flapping
drying in the yard

I fill the sink,
bathing the vegetables
passing the rinsed ones
for you to peel

You at my side,
I taking the lead

Mine hand on my hip,
the other stirring the pot
fire beneath brewing
nourishment and love

yet

from the corner of your eye
you see my sway,
my exhausted stance

Being, You, wife
offer a chair
allowing me to sit,
taking the spoon from my hand to yours

This chore,
this cooking,
we women,
doing this women's work...

When at last
the night calls and the stars begin their answer,
we sink deliciously
into our bed

side by side,
You and I...

you reaching for me,
I sighing for you

between,
exhaustion our constant bedfellow

yet

Your raw and calloused hand
touches my virgin belly
mine tongue and gentle stroke
finds your lips and mouth

This chore,
this lovemaking
we women,
doing this women's work...