Ndimyon and the Goddess : Prayer

By : Jericah Helios

 

It’s only when my lips touch yours that I finally snap out of it.

(Goddess, my Goddess. )

(Human on divine. Mortal on the Immortal)

Sometimes, being a priest gets to my head. I end up forgetting who’s show this is really is.

These hands, the same ones that have been raised to open the skies, I’m running them up your satin covered shoulders. These fingers which have pointed to the sky, at the moon, are running through your ebony tresses and touching your face.

(In which way shall I pray to thee? On my knees? Groveling? On you, upon you.)

Your eyes, pools of witches hazel shimmering in the moonlight, brighter in their borrowed light, reach inside me and search for the thing you’ve always craved.

(When you pray, speak not flowery words which in the end will mean nothing to you or me. )

Not to be worshiped.

(Speak simply)

Not to be adored.

(Speak softly)

Not to be feared and put on a pedestal.

But loved.

(Speak without talking to me.)

Like this. With no hesitations or compromise.

(It is when lips speak)

Like this fierce kiss that drowns out the moonlight outside. Like our searching hands, grasping at one another.

(that I understand you)

Like your satin robes that I am sliding off your bare shoulders. Like your hands searching entrance into my cotton ones.

(It is when skin is to skin)

Like the sweet melody that forms from the base of my throat, and your whispered encouragements that linger in the moonlight. Like the sound of satin falling unto the floor.

(It is when words are forgotten)

Like the taste of our intermingling sweat upon your skin.

(It is when nights like these are blind to our actions)

Like your secret scent that lingers in my memories. Like your hands in my hair.

(It is when we are one)

Like your fingernails that scrape across my back. Your breath next to my ear. Like the new language that we have discovered. Like the sensation of moving with you and within you that drives me past the borderline of sanity.

(It is when I realize, I understand you more than I thought I did.)

For one moment there is a blinding light and I thought we have fallen into milk. Hot, churning milk in which we almost lost each other, yet were never apart. A drowning type of light I never wanted to surface from, never wanted to open my eyes to.

Silence fills the room. Save for soft humming of two bodies.

Silence.

Mortal on immortal. Human on divine.

à à à Sacrifice