A Woman’s Way of Knowing Truth

A woman
who makes her way
in the knowledge of soft skin
and the dark night of her hair—
the trusted strength of her legs
and upright beauty of her neck and back
is a mystery to the spirit
of those who do not believe
in the world of blood and heat
that must flow from one generation of body
to the next wailing body.

I hold my hands out
in wonder as I touch the face
of another lover,
pull him close enough to view
the black depths of his soul.

This extraordinary perspective of all time,
captured in one beautiful face after another,
has never failed to excite me.

The great experiment of seeking truth--
making her way from yani
to the heart—
and only then finding a voice
and the vision of eternity
to be released slowly
from the crown
of the willing.

It is here that I found the wonder of you, Siddhartha.
I never expected to hand over the keys
to my garden gate so willingly
to a man like you.

A woman like I am
would fight the ferryman
on the River Styx for freedom
from the likes of you—
and yet I have surrendered willingly
to the light I have found
in the empty place in your hungry belly
and mind.