This piece is written by Darling Alvia, one of Spicy‘s Guest Contributors. Darling is a 22 year old Latinx from Brooklyn. They paint, write, play the ukulele, take photos, and practice witchcraft, which centers itself around empathy and healing crystals.
Sunday mass, sermons about the promised land.
The rules to get us there.
I was promised a land of milk and honey.
A lane paved with gold.
Finding serenity in His kingdom.
The rules to keep us pure.
Til judgment day, kingdom come.
Why go to heaven, when heaven is here?
I found the promised land in her words.
The lane paved with gold rest down her belly.
The kingdom between her thighs.
Her lips taste of milk and honey.
There is no rules to reach her.
Come as you are she whispers in my ear.
I fall to my knees.
The quiver in her voice is the Holy Ghost.
And I feel a revival.
Now Sunday mass feels like an extra task.
A pointless act.
I know how to find the promised land.
I hear it in every good morning.
And I can taste it on my tongue.
I can feel it in her finger tips, while they glide across my body.
She is the kingdom.
The land of milk and honey.
Image courtesy of Meenakshi Parashar