the dances for dying
what would a monastery of misfits be like? a chosen space filled with the rest of us - queers, addicts, ‘fallen’ women. dissidents, wanderers, and the mentally ill. what world might we create? the below is a vision that came as i was walked california’s murin headlands the past few days.
a new monastery
on these walls are written
your secret names,
we shout three times
each desire reclaimed.
come you weary and
be unbound
by screams and silence,
laughter sounds,
touch and moans
and luscious robes,
kneel, play, abstain, unload.
the needs of
a boy and harlot queen,
we speak in visions
the prayer obscene.
for the great plains
make you at evensong,
the moon on high,
her shadows long,
from our center freyja’s fire is rising,
we come to remember
the dances for living,
the dances for dying.
This is beautiful, and speaks to me in many ways.