top of page
  • Writer's pictureZoë Atkinson Fiennes

Eternally Mine

I belong to myself.

I am my own chalice,

my own cup.

It's full.

Without you.

I welcome in the fountainous pouring of pleasure, and fantasize.

Tantalise my streaming veins;

shimmering rains,

trickling down,

to my Feminine place.

This glittering ecstasy.

Exquisite wholeness.

A return. A homecoming?

This sacred communion is rightfully mine.

But it has been shrouded in shame for some time.

Afraid to want, afraid to touch, to feel, to be in my body,

for the pain to be real.

Afraid to know what I know.

Afraid to let go.

And now, my own arms contain,

all that was lost, I've regained.


In myself, my own thoughts.

My mind is mine.

A glistening key turning in the lock of liberation.

Total freedom from man or nation.

The half-alive wanderer that I have been,

rests now;

in the shade of sunlit, flowering trees.

In this dappled gold, I bathe my shivering limbs,

in a light that honours my essence.

Illuminating all that was born to burn bright.

I taste the sweetness of wholeness,

As I learn to hold her;

learn that I love her.

That I am home in a kingdom outside of time.

Eternally mine.

© Zoë Atkinson Fiennes, text and image.


bottom of page