Happy Ishtar: Babylon & Beauty

Frequently we talk about her power. I assumed self esteem deficiency. I assumed her shyness couldn't awaken her power. I also assumed her power could influence her shyness. When we talk, she knows her power. She doesn't highlight it. She acknowledges it only when I foolishly think I'm making a new revelation to her. She holistically knows her Bruja. She knows she can seduce with a glance. She knows she can control with her tone.

However, her shyness tends to kryptonite the power. My camera is sometimes kryptonite but mostly when I want to capture her power. Her power doesn't have an ego but it has a sense of humor. In a series of candid photos, only one will catch my attention. In that one glance, she sees me. The glance is seductive but it's also an alarm. She knows I can't handle the fullness of her Bruja. Chill Lil' Boy. You'll get the photo when you are ready.

Releasing myself from her has been difficult. If she wrapped herself around my arm, I would try to shake her off but two of her would appear. If I shook harder - three. We went through trials in our 4 years together. The trials are the reasons we are no more but the trials also created a bond. I sweep my floors everyday. I still find her hair in my broom. Our bond is spider web dense. Neither of us understood the power of the mind and the truth of intuition. She wasn't the most attractive woman I've ever dated. She wasn't the easiest to communicate with but my intuition told me to stay with her. I wanted to stay with her. To me, she was beautiful. In hind site, I should have told her that more often. Our minds muted the noise but we chose to turn up the volume. In the end, we heard nothing but doubt.

As soon as we had our first conversation, I knew she didn't have a chance. I wanted to call bullshit on that premise so I dove in - rather I waded in the shallows. She was ready for and wanted forever. I was healing yet I wanted her to be content. I wanted her to know her beauty. She had the starter pack: loved to read; loved music and great legs. I obsess over that pack. I wanted to relax in those charms. Maybe in time, I would want forever... with her. I was healing from forever. Let me try shared joys.

A commitment from me never evolved. My wall stayed up. I eventually went back to the antagonist of my wounds. Now I'm healing again. Soon she will be my roommate for a few months until she leaves for a great teaching gig. She will see the world. I will have a wall. It will still be an emotional wall with the addition of barbed wire. There's no way I will be the reason for her not seeing and experiencing the world. The opportunity she has to teach and travel to other countries is tremendous. She knows the wall. She's ready to leap over it.

Jazz immortal Lee Morgan wrote a song called "Helen's Ritual." During his ascent to becoming a Jazz virtuoso, Morgan became a heroin addict. Helen took him out of the literal gutter to revitalize the talent and the man. The ritual was Helen's obsession with lotion. She rubbed lotion on herself throughout the day but the song specifically recalled the seductiveness of her rubbing lotion on her legs before they went out together.

Su's ritual was cooking. This may seem simplistic or a necessity but Su didn't cook. She lived in Houston. She was either working long hours or trying to remedy her insomnia. She rarely cooked. When she drove to NOLA, she cooked and she did it in yoga pants. Su was a petite 5'2" with curves. Su had ass. Su was my closest friend. I adored our friendship simply because of her personality. She always called me on my bullshit but she did it like a favorite Aunt would. It wasn't until years into our friendship that I became attracted to her. We were having a conversation in a parking lot and I saw a softer side of her. Her eyes stayed with me. They were soft, caring and alluring.

Before we became intimate, she either ignored male attention or she would be incredulous at the Black men who showed her attention. "Your ass Su" was my answer every time. Somewhere in her Korean tree, Black people have branches. When we became intimate, our love making was magical. It was a ritual. In the beginning, she held back but when she gave herself to me...

I recall at the end of one of our rituals, we were both sweating in the summer of my hot bedroom. As I lay on my back, she kissed me then softly blew on my face and chest to cool me down. Who. The. Fuck. Does. That!? Oh yeah... the cooking ritual. When she cooked, she wiggled her ass when she mixed something, sprinkled something, stirred something or she just knew I was watching. With Su, I gained weight.