Random Title Generator: Bare Woman

Another assigmnet of the Diving Deeoer pod.  This one was to generate a random title for a piece from a website that spills them out for you to use and write for twenty minutes without editing exept typos.  Mine was bare woman.
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She sits before me heart open and trembling.  What could be better than this?  A woman naked on the inside- no hiding, no show, no cosmetic personality to keep me from her.  I want to know her so badly.  Her perfume- the one that radiates from her belly.  I can smell it now; it is pure like sunshine but much closer like lavender on an august afternoon in Wisconsin walking barefoot through my old garden.  I miss that garden and welcome it through her beauty.  It is so yummy to smell that smell again.  I am grateful she is spilling to it all over me, what did I do to deserve such gravy on a Tuesday night in Cheonan?

I look at her soft skin, not the one I can see with my four eyes.  The one that coats her Soul and keep it fresh and alive- like the over-ripe melons left unattended while on vacation lying in the sun with sand in my toes and butt, loving both for the reminder of who and where I am right now.  Bare. Naked.  Nude. Drenched in sweat of her hard years in the Midwest before the Great shift of ’93 when she said she was done with the agony of fighting forgiveness to the man that beat and raped her dreams, desires, hope and then her body while watching the moon on her front stoop at midnight in her white sundress when there was no sun at that time of night or the next thirteen years for her.  Yes, naked, nude and bare woman who is fully clothed in her orange, purple, gold and turquoise dress that she made from Egyptian cotton that cost more than the last three days worth of food but fed something greater than her insatiable appetite for potatoes with gravy and soy sauce or chicken sliced and sautéed with a peanut curry sauce she learned to make from her former Teacher that tried to help but did not understand the cultural depravity that rape and violation cause an American woman who has cried and tried and lied to make her way through this world in less than five pieces without falling in to and at the earth and its rain and snow and wind that never give her a break from breathing. 

What would it be like to not breathe for one minute? Really not breathe. To cut off our line to love and God and creation and now and then and there and here and forever?  How and why we would we want to try when we can cry and live till we die and give.  I want to give. But she is too naked wearing the colorful dress that she made in honor of her teacher and love and redemption and resentment and hate and date and and questions and answers that have a life of their own, naked and bare like her with her Egyptian cotton that was not rotten but alive.

I miss her while she is still sitting in front of me crossed-legged without her face or her race but just there.  I need to hide before she will smile and make me cry too.  It is too hard to live naked and bare, very rare to make it in such a way today or any day.  But I will try while I watch her sit naked and bare with her dress and her hair that is just so rare.  Gosh, who am I to love such a dove as that which is seated with clothes covering her body but still naked and bare like she can care for the rich and the poor but not for those whose who won’t dare.  She has lived. She is living.  She is alive.  She will live forever.  Naked and bare such a way is so rare, of course a scared man like me will never dare.  At least, at least  I can care and maybe even share in these moments of naked and bare that are just so rare.  Lord I Pray that I dare, care, share and bare, like the bare woman in front of me that is proof there is a God and has felt the strength of the Rod.