Hortator

I am still

But I am movement

I feel you crash like a tsunami

Made for me

My pleasure

I feel like one

Here there is life

And peace

And love

And faith

And hope

Transcendent quiet thunders into my soul

Disturbing it

Quaking it

Pounding my blood in my ears

Making me face truth and the essence of life

Of love

Of existence

I am existential

I turn with you

My blood pulses with you

My heart is Hortator

It is nothing without you

And you are nothing without me to scream your praises

To worship you

To own you

To use you

I hold you sacred

And magnify you to all living creatures

This poem was definitely channelled. It comes with an amusing story behind it.

For a very short time I joined a writing group.

I wrote this after having a vision, of the Russian/Serbian grassy plains called a steppe. I saw that I was standing in this vast open steppe at night time, watching a giant full moon rise. It was so large it felt like it was going to crash into the Earth. I stood alone in awe of the sky. From where I was standing I could literally feel the the entire earth rotating and I watched the stars, but I could feel that it was the Earth and I were moving not them. I could feel the whole Earth and all the energy in it. I felt total awe, and it made me want to shout with joy and to scream it’s praises. I will never forget what I saw or how it felt. So I wrote down what I saw and felt. It was so clear in my mind.

I felt really proud of this piece of writing. I thought it was beautiful and it captured what I was trying to express. The vision and the feeling of it was so powerfully stuck in my mind, I couldn’t see beyond it. Now to add a little context, I was raised in a very very conservative Christian protestant church, sex wasn’t really discussed at all and frankly I would never have openly expressed anything about my sexuality or sex in way way shape or form (certainly not out loud in front of a group of strangers). I am still quite conservative, its hard to shake.

I read this out loud to the writing group. I received a few comments about how passionate it was. They asked me to explain it a little, and I described the vision and how it felt, and they all seemed a little more quiet than usual with little critique compared to normal. I dismissed it as unusual but fine. I was proud of it. I did note that there were little smiles here and there and I didn’t know why. For me it felt quite serious.

It wasn’t until a few days later that I sat and reread my own poem, and I suddenly heard what they heard.

I had written a passionate love/sex scene.

I was mortified. I was so embarrassed because the entire group all knew. I had literally exposed my own inner passions to them and they new that I didn’t even realise it.

I chose not to go back after that, I was absolutely mortified at my own total lack of awareness.

Needless to say being a lot older and more comfortable, I can laugh a little now, (although I’m still so embarrassed for younger Krista back then). I am still proud of this piece. It has such a right to exist, and whether you are moved by sex or the magnificence of the universe, joyful passionate experiences make our lives worth living.