The first time your womb announced herself, you were laying stomach up, waiting for King to bring condoms. She, ignoring the playing record, gyrated to her own ethos.
King grazed his whole palm over her, never knowing you to move with such zest. That night, she taught you how to be sacred, spiritual, as r/evolutionary as an angel on earth saving human folk.
You were 23 when you met. Your imagination never pretended her a spirit. You notice she is different from you:
She, origin and everlasting Queen; you silhouetting into femininity.
Her truth, a boundless Nile, flowing from core to infinite; your words, trickling like hands of devils with no hobbies.
She is a dweller in the Light; you came into existence for reasons God hasn’t rung you for psalms yet.
Last night, she reminded you she was Easter spring resurrected; standing right-hand to God to always Be. Her pulse vibrated your warm torso, under the shimmer of Full Moon.
You now speak her same tongue, still wanting to taste like her when you grow up.
Chantana Dean is a poet located in Atlanta, Georgia. She has been a writer since 11 years of age. Her written dialogue expresses the manifestations of Re-birthing, Co-creation, Light, and the paradox of Self, Spirit, and Universe. You can find her on instagram, tumblr, and twitter.
Illustration, Ophelia in Print, by Patricia Grannum. You can find her on tumblr, twitter, and instagram @numythology.