wombmen have this wisdom about them
this softness to which has no parallel -
an inner well of unlimited water.
no wonder they’re considered the Moon’s daughters.
in conversations, i find myself swimming through
the rivers of their regal souls, unable to let go
until my spirit is nourished, nurtured. i find ease
in communicating with wombmen
i discover as i dig and dig the wonders and beauty
i unearth is priceless, withoutworth. since my birth
i’ve been cared for by caring, creative, crafty wombmen
is this the reasoning behind my longing for their light??
in my searching, traveling of wombmen’s cosmic souls i grow,
gathering the elements of the universe that enters them first.
blame me not for preferring lengthy conversations
of dialog with wombmen than those i have with men.
you don’t understand the state of bliss i am in.
time transcends. i feel the softness of the wind
liquid becomes the thoughts that seep from my pen
i giggle and grin-some kind of world of pearls,
preciousness and blues & purples rotate
around me again and again.
solace, silence and vibrance: a wombman’s soul.
she feeds me i become needy i don’t mean to be greedy
as i nibble on her green leafy-ness
it’s just that a wombman’s wisdom is that of a gentle kiss.
i reach on, fortunate to have the opportunities,
the knowledge i receive, the balance i breathe
to feel the feminine in me as we embark
on jargon full journeys that seem to last foreternities.
© Christopher Donshale Sims
All rights reserved by author 2006
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