It’s not that I felt her presence, not in the strict spirit
Of that meaning, though there were days something hovered
About me. “What the fuck do you want?” I cried,
Momentarily lashing out at the unseen and tremendous
Entity, as though being stared at with a keen desire.
I couldn’t guess that this company represented my destiny.

I’m not referring to the destination form of destiny,
Where you end up despite your will, cunning, or spirit,
Despite all your dreams and most ardent desire.
I mean where the current flows, while you hover
Upon its surface, drifting and turning over tremendous
forces; where you stumble, answering a silent cry.

But sometimes I did feel her touch as I cried,
Alone in the night, bereft (I felt) of purpose or destiny.
Sometimes in the wide, empty field I yet sensed her tremendous
Body, the vibration of life from an intangible spirit.
In the clearest sky she stifled the air as she hovered
Above tiny little me, heating me in her own desire.

I prayed, “What is it you could possibly desire
Of me? What in the world do I have to offer you?” I cried.
She said nothing, only smiled upon me, hovered
Like the clouds that sheltered where I was destined
To arrive. All my weeks and months with this massive spirit,
Every empty space stuffed full with this being so tremendous.

It doesn’t seem possible to fail to notice something tremendous
Like this woman, but there were days when her desire
Seemed to cool, and I would find myself in poor spirits.
Emptiness seemed that much emptier, and I was close to crying
With abandonment. I had no understanding of our destiny,
Of the conclusion that so closely hovered.

“Should I call out to her?” But my tongue numbly hovered
Over the best word to compel this intangible, tremendous
Woman to my side—never guessing it was not merely our destiny
To be together, not merely her wish but my mounting desire
To attach and lose myself in her, to hear her cry
My name, to pronounce me in letter and in spirit.

Now all my thoughts hover about this alluring spirit,
Waiting for the realization to come in a tremendous cry,
Waiting for the destiny we together desire.

6 thoughts on “Sestina: Fylgja

    1. Yes, I did. My Goddess challenged me to illustrate “inaccessible beauty,” and I challenged myself to use only the tools a two-inch-tall person could use: a blunted toothpick and an inkwell.

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        1. Thank you! It strikes me as a little strange that my giantess writing adventure has been pushing me creatively in many different directions (illustration and printing, audiobooks, music, miniatures, photography) unlike any other artistic foray I’ve attempted.

          Liked by 1 person

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