Behind the Veil
In the world of light and men, I serve at times as a sexually dominant woman, an Ysabel, Mistress of Ordeals, whom men petition in order to find the Goddess of themselves.
In that world, I am the one who rings the bell, who brings the sound which summons the servant to sacrifice and obedience.
But, in this place behind the veil, it is I who am the servant - a mystic ysabel who answers to the ringing will of a God no man can ever become.
In this place, my God is a deep clear tone and I am the ecstatic emptiness through which He sings.
The writings on this page are my devotional, an offering made from the erotic rhythm of that invisible world. It is dedicated to Whom I serve, He whose name I will not say.
If you care to read here, I advise you to do so with a mystic’s heart. And if you care to comment here, please do so carefully and in hushed tones. For in the silence behind the veil, the sound of voices is precious, their words powerful beyond measure.
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1.1
To Be Called
To be called from the ethers
into arousal, into service,
into the ringing of a bell
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1.2
My Lord Appears
My Lord appears to me
His phallus erect
His mouth without words
His eyes without color or meaning
He has come this night to use me
to thrust away all within me
that is not in service to Him
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1.3
The Place He Takes me
When the place He takes me is cold, I renounce my longing for heat
When the place He takes me burns, I burn and think not of cool water
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1.4
His Seed Does Not Fill Me
His seed does not fill me
Bitter and cleansing, it empties me
His is the seed of death and freedom from death
I bear His merciful emptiness
And in my time, give birth to an infinite space
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1.5
A Complexity of Prayer
A complexity of prayer, longing, begging
Then fear, and humbling, and finally
Empty
Resigned
I spread my legs and grasp the carven phallus with both hands
As he has commanded
I thrust the shadow-chilled stone of it into my warm body
I thrust my cruel God into me with my own hands and hold Him there inside
silent and huge and cold
Cold as the long night that will come upon me through my tears
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1.6
His Desire Violates Me
His desire violates me
His dark radiance consumes me
My Lord is a black sun, a devouring King
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1.7
He Allows Me To Rest
He allows me to rest
I lay my head in the lap of nothing
He is not here
And yet, He is in everything, everywhere
He is that which holds me and calms me
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2.1
An Endurance of Pain
An endurance of pain
Tonight, I make a devotion of endurance, an offering of endurance
I cause the pain in His name
I breathe
In His name
I breathe
In His name
I breathe until I ring like a bell in a night of red and gold pain
One high keening note… He is sustained within me
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2.2
He Takes Me Unprepared
Today He takes me unprepared.
I struggle against the whip, his thrusting voice
He batters against the forces of my resistance
I can not find surrender within myself, I cannot find a way
I am ravaged, killed even as I am opened to life, beneath His hands
In his victory He cries out and gushes forth
And now, I am ready, drenched in His desire
Waiting, for whatever assault comes next
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Unless otherwise indicated below, all imagery on this page is taken from free-use stock photography provided by these sources: Stockxchng, Stockvault, Morguefile, and IstockPhoto.
1.7 Image: Andrew Wyeth
2.2 Image: China Hamilton
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Sister, the Dark One won’t speak to me.
Why does this useless body keep breathing?
Another night gone–
and no one’s lifted my gown.
He won’t speak to me.
Years pass, not a gesture.
They told me
he’d come when the rains came,
but lightning pierces the clouds,
the clock ticks until daybreak
and I feel the old dread.
Slave to the Dark One,
Mira’s whole life is a long
night of craving.
Mirabai, 1498-1550
Ah Kochanie,
You always understand exactly. Thank you for this mention of Mirabai.
I am moved by your poems in the same way I was moved when I first read Rumi, and in many ways, the experience is more powerful because of the intimately female voice resonating in and around your words, inundating each tiny little sentence. Truly.
1.5 seemed like a journey, so much movement.
You are a semantic sorceress!
I am glad to be reconnected to you!
Radha
radha,
Goodness. I’m a bit verklempt at being even mentioned in the same sentence with Rumi, but I thank you nonetheless.
I’m glad to reconnect, too. Welcome to my place.
I can really only comment on these pieces as writing, or rather as pieces of art. Each one is a beautifully and carefully made thought jewel with its own resonance and emotional tone or colour. The imagery is alive and the ideas are surprisingly original. The connection to the tradition, the connection between the sexual, the artistic and the spiritual is carefully evoked and explored. The whole series forms a beautiful work of art, wonderful to experience in its craft and its care.
Paul,
Again, I must remark on my appreciation of your ability to not only see what’s here, but to articulate it so beautifully. Thank you.