There was a ring
in the desert but
no bells
nearby.
The humble
Junipers, majestic
as they watched
Two people cry.
Together they cried,
together, about and for
Things that were not
new, yet, somehow
were—pristine
with rough
edges.
You see, they
each carried
Rocks.
Rocks to be
Tumbled,
of course.
Didn’t you hear?
That tumbling, that
Polishing—that
these are the
Purposes
Of Union.
*So this happened yesterday. I mean, can you believe the nerve?
That my partner of lifetimes already would ask me to take them to my most sacred spot in this area of the world, first of all, and then would have the gall to ask me to marry them??
On my birthday?!
Anyways, the ring’s on my finger so I guess that means we’re more formally cementing that commitment that was already true.
And I’m so grateful.
And I’ve learned that I’m *that* bitch that subtly but not so subtly shows off her ring.
Gah, the things you learn about yourself.
The ridiculousness never ends, I swear.
So, there it is. Here I am. Here we go.
What’s different? Honestly? Nothing. And everything. You know what I mean. Ritual and intention does that to a life.
