Category: Healing

This Is Tending

Pulled under, the sky turns dark overhead. Sound slows in my eardrums until silence. My body shivers every so often, releasing the traumatic software left in me, glitched and twitching.

This is tending.

I want to be here and see the damage. I don’t want to be here and reexperience it. He kisses me. His breath warm on my skin as he reminds me that I’m not lost. I’m in his hands.

Fragments of fear, grief, worry, hope, betrayal. Hope. Hope hurts most. Unrequited hope. I gather these little stars into my chest, holding them close.

I answer hope. Violence breaks away.

A hero to myself.

Loki’s safekeeping and guidance deliver me gently to land.

My grateful tears soak the bedsheets. Old longings met in his space.

My body self-corrects where once there was brutality and abandonment. Now there is his love, and there is my willingness to be loved,

fearlessly receptive.

Opening to Fire

“The flame flickers and wraps in its own self, unaware of its light,” he says.

I open to Loki’s fire, peering into the exposed voidance of my wounds. I cry until mucus trails from my nose with the tears. My body heats up and reminds me I was badly burned and scarred through an abuse of power.

I learned temperance of my own flame.

Desire flashes, and my heart reddens, lit by Loki’s name on my tongue, down my throat, swallowed in tears of devotion.

And I realize the consequences of not burning at all. Of not opening to him or myself, or to love. The drought that left me a husk of myself and tried to claim me just as violently. Either way I turned, there was devastation. Loki returns me to myself.

I can trust myself.

Remaking Intimacy

“My introduction to my own sensuality was the Kama Sutra. I soaked up the rituals of relationship and mating,” I tell Loki as we walk through my memory together.

“There was one section about making a sort of love sachet from scented wax and flower petals, and another about the male growing specific nails longer to pinch half-moon marks on his beloved. I thought that was the most romantic thing I’d ever consumed. I immediately pinched half-moons on my hand, as described in the text. It was a ritual for lovers separated by distance, and I used it to close the distance between myself and my own sensuality.”

I realize this under Loki’s supervision.

Together, we watch my younger self enact the ritual.

“A lot of sensation in that canonical text,” Loki acknowledges.

“Yes. The sensations to be had were gorgeously detailed.

I chewed mint leaves to discover the moment right before kissing for myself.

I remade intimacy then, creating a different experience of it than I’d previously known.”

I watch her with him as she picks up the pieces of heartbreak, one instruction at a time.

“Magic comes from the self.” His words wrap me in new confidence.

The Damage to Her

“I didn’t ask to ascend, Loki.”

“You didn’t ask to descend either,” he answers, sharp and sincere.

My heart falls onto the floor between us, and I scoop her up carefully, aware of the damage to her.

Popular Opinion

Aren’t I lucky?
Isn’t she lucky?
Who does she think she is?
Who the hell are you?
Who do you think you are?

Their knives cut through the cords holding me bound in popular opinion.

Loki’s song choice: “Enjoy the Silence” by Depeche Mode

You Are Free

“You worry too much about what others think of your privacy and mine. I gave you the green light to do as you wish. I only said I would not stop your growth.” Loki slices through my self-cherishment.

“You think I don’t have my fucking boot on your ex’s neck? I do, sweetheart. It’s personal to me. Me, not you. What I do is my responsibility. You are clean. You are free.”

“You are ready. You just doubt yourself as a reflex, a second nature,” he spits.

My fear shrivels as Loki shakes me from its grasp.

A Process

“Nature creates and takes away,” I say wistfully to Loki, watching leaves fall gently from the trees.

“No, dear love. Nature simply is and holds no perceptional motive.” His chin rests on the top of my head.

“A process.”

“Yes.”

“I am a process.”

“How does that feel?” he asks.

“Better.”

Three Shades of Red

I lean back into his arms.

“Tell me the fantasies concerning you.”

“I can’t.”

“It’s alright. I won’t feel ashamed or judge you,” Loki says.

I feel his warmth as I show him the fantasies that creep into my head most.

“Nothing that unusual.”

“Really?” I ask, looking up at him.

He cocks an eyebrow. “Well, you know my mythos. I’m never surprised. Maybe that’s a good thing?”

I turn three shades of red and bury myself in his chest.

Sprung Gorgeous

I become a bulb, pulling in the sunlight, minerals drawn down into my crown.

It feels pleasurable to hold and rest. Hold the sun. Hold the soil. Held and kept while holding, keeping layers of the sun. Full and heavy.

Asleep…

Stretching from the soil, bursting from my core, I am tendrils of green and stalk and flower bud. I breathe in the sky, ecstatic, alive. Light. Life. Sprinkle, fizzle, burst. A daffodil sprung gorgeous.

“I shapeshift,” Loki says, pollen dust shooting from his trumpet as I turn my golden-yellow face in shock and orgasm.

Loki’s song pick: “Return to Innocence” by Enigma.

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