I do not know who he is, or even where he is, but I feel every moment is bringing him closer.  The angels are guiding him to me, for this is a match made in Heaven.  The cold quiet snow reminds me of the long waited for Solstice, marking winter’s last theft of daylight. My thoughts of him deepen, the lengthening darkness casting its spell of longing. 

Everything in his life has made him who he is and has brought him ever nearer to me.  I am drawn to him on this, my unwavering journey.  And because of his imminent arrival, I have begun preparing my breasts for him,  for my lactation is the uniting bond we both have longed for.

I understand that the preparation will take commitment on my part, the daily attention to my awakening breasts, a discipline I am most willing to accept. Does he sense that his life is about to change?  Does he question and wonder how much longer will it be until we are at last united?  I imagine him dreaming of my milk, his fantasy coming more and more into focus.

Even now my breasts are swollen and tender  from the work I have already done on them, coaxing my milk ducts into production.  Heavenly, sacred work, for the milk must be plentiful when he arrives.  The intense massage of my milk ducts, uncomfortable at first then deliciously, achingly painful has forced my nipples to heightened erectness and sensitivity.  I will continue with determination,  doing whatever it takes and enjoying every minute of the process.  My breasts have never been more ready to give and receive pleasure.  Sometimes I stand at my window in the cold winter light of the moon, letting her silver beam bless my breasts for the gift I will soon give.  I watch the snowflakes and pretend they are drops of milk falling from the giving breasts of the Moon Goddess.  She and I were born for this.  Her milk will replenish the Earth as I will replenish him.

My dream world is filled with him, his arrival and the sweet knowingness that we have traveled on life’s journeys before.  We have always been linked in this way.  Images of his return from war to the safety of my breasts, to hungrily feed from them,  come to me in the bittersweet darkness, when past lives we have shared  are vivid in my consciousness.  Letting him go back into battle, my milk lingering in his mouth, I wept tears he would never see.  There is no weeping now, only eager anticipation and the dearly held hope that he will be with me to stay.   It was in winter’s darkest days that I held him last and now in winter’s darkest days I prepare for his return.

In my dreams,  I see our first encounter, both of us unsure of the other , but both eager to please each other in this most intimate of connections.  He is almost too embarrassed to proceed, wondering if I am the one he has been searching for, if I am the one ready to surrender her breasts to his hunger.  My breasts know he is the one, for they have let down their milk.  I take his hand and lead him to a place where we can be alone, smiling at how easy this is in my dream world.  We have no need for words .  I hold his hand to my breast, he looks into my eyes with recognition and gratitude.  I unfasten my blouse and lift my breast to his waiting mouth.  Droplets of milk cling to my nipple.  He lowers his head  and kisses them.  He suckles tentatively at first, then deeply and rhythmically and I love the little swallowing sounds his throat makes.  My dreams come to me with such intensity that I awake feeing my nipple deep in his mouth as though he were already with me.

I am pleased with myself for enduring the discomfort and pushing myself to achieve fruition.  The reward is great.  There must be active breast stimulation many times during each and every day.  I know there will be times when I resist, when the pain outweighs the pleasure.  I will work through the tender soreness, my only wish that he were here to encourage me.  The new sensitivity is with me throughout my day,  heightened by physical activity.  The sensation gives me focus and purpose.  I plan my days, allowing for the precious time I devote to my sacred preparation.  It has become a sensuous ritual filled with my longing for him, acute and strong.  I am glad for winter’s blanket that encloses me in my sanctuary, yet promises to reveal the hope of spring.  I light candles to remind me of the light to come and wonder in my heart of he will arrive with the sun.

I know that my commitment to feed him, once made, is irreversible.  I know, at times, he will want the breast when I am less willing, and I know I will never deny him.  I know that my lactation defines my future and I am ready for it.  Each day I will continue, never looking back.  I will embrace the changes in my breasts and relish in the sensations, painful and pleasurable.  This is my destiny.

I am the grantor of his wishes and he of mine.

MoonMilk Goddess
December 16, 2009