The Goddess Among Us

It was just another day, I was walking through the forest on my way to some assignation on the other side of the river. Nothing unusual, the forest was dark as ever, the clearings were far between, and around each one a few songbirds were doing their morning routines. My staff helped when I had to step over the fallen logs, and kept me from slipping on the moss, and the sack over my shoulder was light... after all, how much does a poet need to travel with? When the people are gathered in the mead hall, waiting to listen, there's not much beyond just one's presence and voice: no props, no instruments, just the ancient stories I learned long ago. It's an easy way to make a living these days. Life has been peaceful for years.

It does get a little quiet in the forest sometimes, walking for miles alone, and it's slow going. I was listening to the sounds of the woods: the birds, the squirrels chattering, here and there in the distance a dog barking near a cottage. There's never anything new. But then, I thought I heard a voice, a melody. I moved more slowly, I could actually make out a few words of sweet singing. A woman's voice, and a song I never heard before. I thought I knew them all, but this was something different, something ancient, I could only catch enough to tell it wasn't in any modern tongue. I stopped. I tried to listen, to hear where the voice was coming from. It echoed through the woods, but if I turned west I could hear it better. I walked slowly towards it.

Since the ground was covered with ferns, I knew I must be getting close to a clearing. Yes: ahead, a few rays of sunlight came down through the branches. The singing was clearer now, the voice louder. Strange: the birdsong had stopped. It was like the sparrows and warblers were listening to her sing. I slowed down, and looked around me. The clearing was just ahead. I crept closer, and bent low when I got to the tree line. Peeking around an old oak trunk, I surveyed the scene.

She was standing in the middle of a small circular meadow, with the sunlight falling all around her. It was so bright, my eyes seemed to deceive me, and I thought of moving back a little into the woods. But I was drawn to that voice, I almost couldn't resist leaning closer. But I didn't want her to see me, she might have stopped, or even run away.

And I didn't want her to run: she was lovely: dark hair down past her shoulders, her skin white in the sunlight, her lips as red as the blood of a raven. She was wearing a dark cloak, with a clasp in a style I'd only seen a few times, the kind old wise women wore when they were curing their patients with the herbs they grew. Such things aren't made these days, they're passed down from mother to daughter, this one must have been generations old. Is it true that they carry the magic of the women who've worn them, building through time? I don't know, all I could tell was that it showed two falcons wrestling, as if they'd clasped talons in flight. But I was much more interested in her song.

I nearly couldn't resist it. It drew me towards her, almost against my wishes. For the first time, I knew what the people gathered in the mead hall felt when I recited. Sometimes it seems as if my incantations overcome them, and there's nothing else they desire. There was certainly nothing I desired at that moment but to be closer to that voice. I walked, slowly, softly, closer. She didn't need to turn to see me. She just kept singing. It was like she expected me to be there, and coming from this direction. It seemed that was the point of her song, to bring me to her. And now that I was nearly there, it grew softer, but more intense, as if she were whispering to something deep within me. Her black dress was no more than a wrap, cinched with a wicca belt. Her boots were wrought deerskin, laced with leather. Above her knees to her thighs, nothing but white skin, and white skin where the wrap barely covered her breasts. I stood before her for a moment, her voice grew even softer. I sat down.

She never said a word. She never stopped singing, but now her voice was so low only I could hear it. Well, me, and the birds, and maybe the goddess, who knows? She first touched me on my shoulder, and that only to signal gently that I should lie down. I did: there she was, standing before me, her hair blocking the sun, making a near halo around her. That's when I noticed her eyes had changed color, now they were nearly as dark as her cloak.

The cloak came off then, and fell on the grass and flowers all around us. She unlaced her boots, and they fell next to the cloak. I lay there, watching and listening. She looked straight into my eyes as she unhooked her belt. The wrap opened slowly, the breeze pushed it open, almost as if the wind were undressing her. Her breasts were white in the sunlight, her nipples as red as her lips. Her waist: well, it was so small I felt I could wrap my hands around it, and have my fingers touch. And then, as the wrap fell, her hips were exposed, her thighs, the triangle of hair. But she didn't let her belt fall. She hooked it back around her waist. Then it was done: there she was, standing naked before me, blocking the sun as the light fell all around her, looking down at me, singing.

She knelt beside me, as one kneels who's about to touch something sacred. Her hair fell against my chest, her hand stroked my hair. I've never had a woman unbutton my shirt so gracefully: there was no passionate rushed fumbling, she was taking her time, she knew she had me as long as I could hear her voice. Even if I'd wanted to run, I wouldn't have been able to, and I had no thought of running, I just wanted to feel her hands touching me, to feel her breasts against my chest. But for that, I had to wait. My shirt was off, and she was working on my belt. She had me lift my hips, or she lifted them for me, I still don't know. She moved to unlace my sandals. And there I was, lying face up in the sunlight. Naked. And completely hers, as long as she sang.

And sing she did, a different song, as if she had gotten what she wanted, and was calling something or someone else to her now. It was a gentle chant, rhythmic, and I started to recognize it. I'd heard it many nights, when I crept out to listen to the circles of women who gathered and danced outside their villages in the moonlight. She was calling the goddess to her. It never worked for those circles of women, but I thought it just might work for her. She ran her hands over my chest while she sang. She kept her eyes on mine as her hands explored my skin. Slowly they moved down past my waist. Slowly, she started stroking me. Her eyes left mine then, and she watched her hand sliding up and down on me. She looked around the clearing, into the trees. Was she making sure no-one was around, or making sure someone was? Whatever she was doing, she must have been pleased. She leaned further down, and stopped singing just as her lips reached my flesh. Slowly, slowly she took it in her mouth. She was savoring every inch. A small breeze came up around us then, and she had me completely in her mouth and throat. She started her lips sliding slowly back up. I could feel myself growing, extending all the way. I lost track of time then, and even of where we were, or how I got there. All I knew was the sensation of her lips moving up and down on me, her hair brushing my thighs, her hands caressing my skin. Then she stopped, and lay down in the grass.

I wanted to reach over and touch her, but something stopped me. She was lying in the sunlight, naked, her legs open so I could see, her eyes watching me. She started with her breasts. Her hands ran over the delicate skin, her whole body trembled when she touched her nipples. She lingered on them a little while, and then one hand wandered down, over her hips, along her thighs, and then...

Then she looked in my eyes as she began to caress herself. Wet and open, her body shaking everytime she touched it, she reminded me of the sea, the waves going through her, the breeze blowing over her and me, me longing to dive in, but with something holding me to the shore, I watched and watched. Her hands were moving faster now, she was getting closer. One hand was on her breast, and she was looking at me as she concentrated on the warmth between her thighs. Her breathing slowed, her hands slowed, she was almost there, she closed her eyes, and came.

I thought she might fall asleep. I thought she might stand up and walk away, or that something unimaginable might happen. Instead, she opened her eyes, and moved back towards me. At last, she was there, her breasts pressing against my chest, her legs on each side of mine. She started singing again, a different song, a song of thanks and gratitude? Whatever it was, she was whispering it in my ear as she guided me into her. Slowly, gracefully, she pushed her hips down against mine, until I was entirely inside her, until she surrounded and consumed me. Then she started to move her hips in an ancient rhythm, the breeze growing stronger, the sunlight warmer as she brought her lips to mine. I could no longer tell where I ended and she started, or the other way around, or even if we were separate. It seemed we were one, and there was a third with us, or within us. My cock was hers, my arms were around her, and I drew her into my chest. Everytime she stopped kissing me, she started singing a moment, and then kissed me again. And the next time she kissed me, the singing didn't stop.

I could feel the breeze rising. It wasn't just a breeze now, there was a wind swirling around us. We moved in harmony, in unison, as one. The way a forest moves in waves as the wind goes through it, the way the lakewater waves move when the midafternoon gusts push them along the shoreline, the way clouds move across the moon on a summer's midnight. And then one can feel the dawn coming, the intensity of the coming light, the expectation, and then...

We came together, my body pulsing within hers, pushing waves inside the center of her being, then out through her. They seemed to go on forever, doubling back through me, and then gathering in her, and flowing out. When they finally slowed, someone or something seemed to caress us, the wind, flowing one last time around us, then moving away.

She rose. She looked at me, a long time. I wanted to rise, but had no energy left. She leaned down, and gathered up her wrap. She put it on, opening her belt and reclasping it. Then her boots, all the while looking at me. Last came her cloak, with the golden clasp of falcons. She held them for a minute, either to draw on the magic or just to make sure it was well locked. Then she turned and made her way to the edge of the forest, looking back only once before she disappeared and I fell asleep.