A moment in transition….
The dull ache in my back subsides for a time, but it wont be long, I realize, until I will feel the increasing push and pull of that experience again.
I place a hand on the window-ledge to steady myself and take a cleansing breath. The air is suddenly fine and sharp and tastes of antiseptic. I push myself away from the darkened window, not unlike a swimmer pushing underwater away from the pool edge, trying to gain the extra momentum for the long shuffle to the bathroom door.
“I have to pee.” A voice, fuzzy from inside my head, speaking to no one in particular. I am beyond exhaustion, and the concept of shifting my weight from standing to sitting drains me more, even in thought.
“It’s just the pressure.”, the tinny echo of reason from somewhere outside of me. And for a moment, I am startled, frantic, but without time to do. The depth of feeling plunges in around my girth, spreading from the center of my soul and enveloping me into myself.
Arms embrace me and I slump willingly into them as the power of being surges through me. My back is spreading outwards, my hips straining the bonds of my skin and the hands there hold me together.
In. Out. In. Out. One, two, three….
I am frozen in time, in agony, in power, in fight, in flight , in creation.
Again, the determination of my body’s control recedes and leaves me shaking and breathless.
“You’re doing awesome. You can do this.”
I don’t believe them, those voices. but the sound of it rolls in my head like a resounding mantra and lends me the strength I need to lower the bands of my body, coiled and tight with the promise of exahltation and purpose to the toilet.
A voice again, this time from the floor, and my focus shifts breifly to the gentle promise of it’s words, to the outside of me, and a face swims into view. I study it hard and resolve to hold my eyes with those in front of me as the heat of the growing pull and push, now familiar to me, brings forth the power again, surging like light, wrapping my body, white-hot and blinding. I am set on those eyes, that voice, and I moan in bliss and release with the surge. I hold the eyes, they hold me.
In. Out. In. Out. One, two, three…
The urine makes a slow, burning, drip-drip into the water, the open chasm below me. There is more, a thickness that has left me, but I am beyond knowing what purpose, what inner meaning it holds.
I fall forward, not far, stopped short and solid by the expanse of my power and the shoulder in front of me. That shoulder, connected to the face, those eyes. The eyes that were my savior a lifetime ago are now my bitterest enemy, my driver, relentless.
“You can do this. You are so strong.”
I shudder and brace myself. A deep breath again and something shifts. My head is heavy and my tongue is thick. It’s been a breath too many and I feel the power begin, off-beat.
New, full, strange, starting now at the center of my thighs, driving downwards pulling all I have, all my breath, with it. I feel the pull between my legs, but I am a being of light now, mastering and mastered by the egotism of my own body. Unable, willing, able and unwilling. I don’t understand, I don’t think, I just do. All of me tells me to do.
My mind yells and fights, “I CAN’T! I CAN’T!” was that outside of me? My body does. There is no reasoning, only purpose. No flight, only resurgence and need.
The moment leaves me.
And I have sudden clarity. It is here! It is now. I have come. I have learned and lost, and now I am the power.
I stand, a sudden movement and my Mind, my Heart and me Body converge in reality. The power is a part of me, not over me and I am locked in my need. I push past the voices, the faces of people I have known and now know again. I have resurfaced and awakened and the farthest reaches of the room are now mine in detail.
Another moment, frozen, this time as if in crystal. The bed waits in front of me, blues and whites in contrast with the deep tan and washed-out pink of the walls. A blue vynol chair with faux wood armrests butts up against the wall, and the lights in the room are diaphanous, lending a yellow-gold tint to it all. It glows off my skin, behind my eyes.
I am amazingly aware. The warm roughness of the linen against my thigh as I move to my side on the bed with urgency and centered calmness. I am confused and certain of my need as a whole. I recline like a plump goddess in a 16th century painting, glowing and cherub-like, mysterious and powerful, knowing and needy.
A woman steps forward to speak, but her words are lost to me in the surge of tidal urgency I now feel,
“I need…” is all I can express, and a cool hand slips between my knees. In a brief opening, I see in detail the knowing in her eyes, mirroring my own. The nod of her head.
And I do.
I be. I give. I take.
There is a bursting forth and the overwhelming moment of relief and release, warmth and wetness surrounding me. I burn. It’s too much. It is the moment when your lover is holding you in thrall and you yearn and despair with the need for the next touch, the next thrust, when the ache is felt in your throat and you raise your hips to force him deeper into you. To feel the depth that is painful, passionate and powerful.
It is the push over the edge. I exist in the heartbeat between pulling away and pushing through, seeking ultimate need and release.
Again and again, I build, I need, I see, I am crystalline in knowledge, I am tortured. I feel this, I can see the faces around me – the table at my bedside, shining with chrome and steel on dark green cloth, alien and understandable, but no less significant than the window open while making love: aware that the sound carries, but raising past the point of caring until it just is.
I look once into the eyes of the man who stands with me, awed and smiling.
“You are so beautiful.” he mouths the words and I am sent again over the edge, this time to the point of no return.
A collective breath is held, and un-held and in a moment of desperate and exuberant need, I feel the pressure spread down my thighs, and I move to accomodate. I move and I bear down into the depths of my soul.
The worlds splits in two, in four, into a million, and I split with it.
An undeniable and primal scream resounds in a great and powerful song from the bottom of the world and erupts in triumph from my throat.
And in a instant, I am empty.
I am inside out with anguish. With relief. With an emotion that cannot be expressed by any language, in any world beyond the one that is created in my soul at that exact moment. The world created for the wet, hot, smooth weight of him that lies against my breast.
p; I am alive. I am power.
I am a mother.
– Alison Groves
Compleat Mother Magazine