deadlines? how about live wires one must cross to get to the other side? a boundary the color of a love so true it blazes a throbbing line between one space of being and another, reverberating, echoing sound and light far beyond and before this life-time. thresh-holds, door-ways, and windows left open just enough for one to peer out and swing legs across to jump . . . not down to the sidewalk but into a completely new realm visible only as an abyss, the unknown, perhaps veiled in irridescent blue light, or. . . simply black with flecks of gold dust . . . equally beautiful but more intense for the absorbtion of light, begging the question, "will the unknown envelope me, suck me into nothingness to become a small blinking gold light in a dreamscape of millions of others just like me."
there are about seven days leading up to the moment at which i will sit in a newly born iyawo's space during his ita, where i will have my guardian angel pulled down, yanking me up into a fresh perspective not yet born but welcoming. a foreshadowing of what is to come . . . i will know which energetic force of the orishas claims my head - a reunion, a homecoming, a hopefully better understanding of ori and the walk its chosen. it all makes me feel what i imagine it must feel like inside that ripe discovery of heart-felt knowing, that intuitive understanding of one's true love, despite the current lack of existence of that lover's material self or full acknowledgment like . . . 'yeah, i'm feeling you, too.'
the premonition of an engagement without the ring. i cannot say that i am afraid. on an intellectual level, i understand that my guardian angel has been there all along, since the moment of my birth even, and that my ori chose that particular energetic force before i chose the forgetful space of living in this world, being trained up in the ways of human imperfection and inscrutible loneliness.
why being human causes one to forget the name and intimate secrets imparted by the guardian angel is a definite mystery to me. in light of that dismemberment of intimacy, i, like so many other strangers, have chosen to get to know orisha energy during circumstantial demand like . . . 'i am hot headed today; i wanna scream fire words at every passer-by and threaten to knock folks' heads off . . . oh, let me find that solitary mountain and commune with olofi. cool, cool. is that a third finger i'm developing holding this walking stick. my imagination? damn, this mountain is steep, and i'm gettin mad old in the process of climbing. am i crazy? no. i am just tired. go left, right. no straight forward and up. damn, i'm tired. maferefun obatala, etc. '
that was the beginning of my walk. five years later, i wait for the culmination of a simple seven days to know the inevitable . . . a more authentic me. i find it interesting that this moment is happening parallel to another one marked by a letter which has fallen from the birthing force i've come to know through palo mayombe . . . another about love but human and where i fit inside it . . . finally.
this is, for a girl-child destined to feel her heart strong, regardless of her mind's puzzlement, a time for lovers. and this girl-child, me, am simply petal open . . . like zora say . . . and waiting.