Three Words
I have thought a lot about words the last few days and how very small words
can have so much meaning.
The other night he used a word that first made me laugh and then before I could
stop, I blurted out that on earth that word would be an insult. My reaction
surprised me because I have come to acknowledge that so many words insulting on
earth are true of me. Slave. Property. Beast. Slut. And now, trifle. The words
do not fall easily from my lips. I used to say, I am a photographer. Now I say
... I am a slave. I am a trifle.
A trifle is a small thing, not of much significance. It is, I believe, meant to
remind me of my place here and not allow me to become arrogant even as I see his
quiet smile when he watches me or feel his grip in my hair and hear the now
familiar deep throated groan. I am a trifle.
~~~*~~~
He has allowed me the name Joy. Another small word. When it was given to me at
my birth, it was not because I was so joyful, but because of the joy others
felt. There is a joy now inside me along with the burning deep in my belly. I am
growing to realize the truth of this name that I am allowed.
~~~*~~~
"Closer." Over the noise in the tavern, I heard that single word as I knelt at
his left. I moved, first pressing my thigh to him. "Closer." Ultimately I lay
against him as he reclined on the furs. That single word and his insistent use
of it makes me realize that no matter how much I think I have revealed myself to
him ... or become slave ... become his slave, he will always want more.
"Closer."