On Tumblr, @instructor144 said: An important thing that the young/new Doms don’t get. D/s is not something that a Dom “does to” his sub. It’s something she “does to” HERSELF. She is not dictated to; she is simply wrapped in a cocoon of safety in which she can exercise her volition to embrace what she WANTS to do and WANTS to be. No mean feat, constructing that safe space in which the sub can, paradoxically, feel “free.”
My thoughts : So perfectly stated. When I feel safe as a submissive, I also feel safer to explore kinks I’ve said ‘no’ to before. When You make me feel safe, I can trust You to manage how I experience Your kinks … and maybe they will become my kinks, too. I can devote obedience to You with the deepest respect, not pandering cowardice or fear, or worse, needy insecurity. I can trust You to hear me, see me, and still be fully in control because mastery and control are who You are. I surrender my fear and step into Your space freely even if I shake with anxiety because I trust You to be in charge of keeping the safe space.
I’m reading through a few entries in my first private journal started in 2013. The only person I shared that journal with often said even my writing style was poetic. At the time, I did not see that. About 2 years after starting that journal, a creative writing flow was set free in me and this poetry blog was born. In recent months, I’ve begun a second poetry blog which is not anonymous. Felt like the time had come to be more public with whatever content I was comfortable to share as ‘me’. 🙂
Below is my first entry in that initial top secret (!) journal writing blog. I want to turn it into an official poem yet leaving it as is feels right.
Whoever you are, I want to tell you I already LOVE the creative flow in you and cannot wait until you share it with the rest of us. Whether you choose to write anonymously as I did here or write publicly as yourself, the exhilaration of sharing will cause new levels of freedom and creativity to be activated within.
August 2013 Journal Writing
During meditation, I kept feeling tight pain in my chest and followed the instructions to direct my breath there. As the physical tightness unwrapped and relaxed, tears began flowing. My heart is broken for my sister’s loss, yet there is recognition of pain layers going much deeper than recent events can explain.
Rivers of wrong rising up and a slow rinsing away of injustice with each teardrop.
Pain is wearisome yet when embraced like the wretched porcupine it is, it turns into joy unending. The greatest pain is overcome by an even deeper joy, always.
Hope is born in new dimensions and colors at the oddest of moments.
Wind is speaking with a lover’s chant
beating breath against my neck in rhythmic yes.
Water holding liquid space like orgasmic shockwaves
pulse and push in pleasure places.
Wanton whispers insist their way through my skin
and touch Heart’s throbbing space
and continue to move through my vessel.
Unseen Lover’s touch matches my rise and fall;
bodies in a pleasure ballet of sensory dance.
Diving deep in Love’s holy grip.
I won’t go back.
I won’t look back.
Where is it I would go?
I can’t go back.
Love’s grip holds my chaste heart
with tender mercy and violent passion.
Love issues wave after wave of passion’s pleasure
and heaven’s peace into the desert of my heart.
I am loved.
I am fucked.
I am powerful.
I am priestess and virgin,
mother and whore,
crone and courtesan.
My desert has become paradise,
an oasis of pleasure.
I am yours.
Photo credit: ‘Into The Wind’ by Robert Dawson
Midsummer dream comes
unbidden yet vividly true
of that time long ago
when I lost myself in your essence.
Mountain crisp air
with its lingering shiver
competes with your touch.
Soft dark eyes fill up every picture
of the day.
Surrounded by daisies in a meadow
it is only you I see, not the camera.
Leaping from boulder to boulder as we
chase the butterfly and end in a laughing heap
Soft dark eyes penetrate with smiles.
Singing our way down the windy mountain road
with song after song on the radio
weaving magical notes within our car cave.
Smiling side glances whilst driving,
your soft dark eyes caressing my being.
Snuggling in the hammock under starlight,
gazing without words in soft dark pools of light,
soul to soul, loving.
Lost in your essence …
Crouched inside your heart
life sets ready to be lived.
Spring up, run, freely BE!
Cradled within you
a child’s heart wiggles free.
Joyous giggles rise.