I wrote the below for a faerie gathering I attended in February, but it might translate to real life.
You might have flinched when somebody touched you. You might have wondered, Do they want something from me? You might have looked at beautiful men and collapsed under the weight of your wanting.
You might have listened to a near-stranger share his pain and wanted to reach out, to teach, to save. You might have found that your reach exceeded your grasp. You might have forgotten to hold on to something yourself.
You might have breathed. You might take a breath right now. Another.
You might have been naked, watching the steam rise from the pool and into the pines, and realized you were no longer thinking of your body as something that was in need of improvement.
You might have been in a room with a hundred other people and looked each of them in the eye without fear. And they might have touched you, and you them; soft parts of bodies brushing and mixing until you couldn’t imagine looking at any person with difference or suspicion.
You might have wondered how it could be so easy, how you could ever forget that that the space between us is the space where we connect.