(Be)longing

Nostrils fill with your familiar musk
saturate and sate
a familiar scent of home
a Hiraeth so deep
it wallows in echoes
around my entirety.

Resounding hymnal
Where modesty
long lost beneath torn petticoats
beg to be ripped and riffed,
In a squall of tooth and tongue.

Deeper, deliciously lost
in clutch, in grip,
as a rooted tree in its
ecclesiastical spot
Weeps its willowed hollows,

Pledges its vows with ribboned leaves
laments its goodbyes to a setting sun.

And then the quiet,
where hollow to hollow
we hold,
intertwined
anchored souls,
braided with unspoken
understanding.