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From: Bud Red <redbud@inbox.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Daydreams and Distractions 6: Leda and the Swan (Redbud)
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Date: Fri, 06 Nov 2009 01:10:02 -0500
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Daydreams and Distractions 6: Leda and the Swan


   I lived in a little house.  My name is Leda.

   I wear just a shift to sleep at night.

   I leave the window of my one room house open so that I can look at the
pond's waters at night - the moon's reflecting and the stars.

   One night I woke to a great swan in my window.

   The moonlight shone through his white wings and glistened from the S of
his neck.

   "Leda," he said, deeply and powerfully.

   I pulled the thin cotton sheet closely around my slender frame.

   "You speak?" I asked.

   He made no answer but I saw the wind tease the luminescent curtains.

   **

   The next night was dark.

   I awoke and I felt his presence.

   "Leda," he said again, and his voice was like rustling leaves, but
darker - the rustling that comes before a storm.

   Fear alighted in my stomach.

   "Don't rape me." I could only whisper.

   "Leda," he answered softly, richly.

   "Don't rape me," I whispered again, frightened.

   "Leda," he answered.  "You are beautiful."

   "What do you want?" I asked.

   "My children," he answered, "My beautiful children."

   I did not understand his answer.

   **

   The next night I lit a candle and sat at the window table.

   I waited.

   The flame of the candle spoke stories to me: how a lighted flame draws
closer to the earth the moment it is lit; and how we are like the flame.  I
lay my head down on the desk, my soft brown hair covered my eyes and I
slept.

   The light went out, or the candle's flame was snuffed, and I awoke with
a start.

   Once again, the great swan was in my window, the S of his neck gave
light and took shadow so beautifully, I wanted to reach and touch.

   "You may," he said, knowing my thoughts.  And then he knew he was a god.
Which one, I didn't know.

   "You are very warm," I said as I touched his neck.  "What do you want?"

   "My children," he said.  "Will have wings, like swans, and the beauty of
their mother."

   And then I gasped.  I saw the swan's phallus, which was nothing like a
swan's phallus, but like a man's, or a god's - large and thicker than my
own wrist.  I could not speak.  I could not breathe.  My heart raced.  I
stared and the great swan, with ancient and knowing eyes, slowly turned and
leapt into the dark air.



   **

   The next night I could not sleep.

   I knew what he wanted.  I knew what he meant to do and yet I knew he
waited for my permission.

   I turned in my bed, the sheets twisted.

   The memory of the swan's phallus tormented me.  Thicker than my own
wrist!  How could I possibly?  I feared it.  Yet my memory was also drawn
to it, making my breath shallow and my heart flutter.  The sheets twisted
between my legs.  I gasped when the thinnest part slipped between the
divide of my sex.  I moaned and pulled on it.  Then I twisted the sheets
into a thickening cord and moved my hips forward and back across it.  I
felt it against me, rounding my parted thighs, a cord of sheets as thick as
the phallus.  I was afraid of its girth.

   But I also could not stop my belly from somehow seeking to feel that
girth inside me.

   I moaned and pushed myself against the knotted cord.  A strange pleasure
overcame me.  Though my mouth was open, I could make no sound.  The muscles
of my belly clenched at emptiness and released, clenched and released.

   The swan did not come that night.

   **



   And the swan did not return the next night.

   I awoke with my knees parted, my shift bunched around my waist by my own
restlessness.

   **

   "Leda."

   His voice woke me on the third night.

   I had been sleeping but quickly sat upright.  The great swan stood in my
window.  The sinuous and beautiful silhouette stepped from the windowsill
onto the small table at the foot of my bed.  His phallus stood thickly,
almost longer than both my hands end to end.  He turned his head and peered
at me with a black eye.

   "Are you ready?" he asked.

   My heart drummed.  My exhalations were sharp and I shook.  I felt tiny.

   "I'm just a girl," I said, voice shaking.  "You're a god."

   I could not take my eyes from his phallus.

   The great swan's head turned.  "I am a mere god." The swan's great wings
stretched and he stepped onto the bed.  "But you, Leda, are the source of
life.  I can engender life in you: beautiful, mortal and god-like, and
their beauty will be your beauty."

   I opened my thighs.

   The great bird moved between my legs and he took my throat, my whole
neck, in his bill.  He laid me gently down onto my back.  His white wings
stretched like a white canopy above us both.  I felt the downy, warm weight
of him against my breasts and nipples.  I thighs widened and I drew my
knees upward, yielding myself to a god.

   My neck arched, though he still held me by the neck, and my back arched.
I cried out, a sharp gasp as the broad bulb of his phallus pushed, opened,
and entered me.  I panted and moaned, opening my legs wider as my belly
stretched around his girth and slowly, inexorably, took his full length. 
Then the full length of him was inside me and with a woman's knowing, I
knew the god's name.  His length knew me and pressed deeply where I would
engender.  He moved and when I finally cried, the muscles of my center
gripping him, I felt his own ecstasy warmly fill me.

   **

   After that, he came to me again, sometimes as I knelt at my garden. 
From behind me, I would first hear and feel the wind of his wings.  Then
the great swan would take my neck in his bill and gently press my check or
forehead to the garden's pungent soil, and I would moan as his phallus
filled me from behind and engender more children.

   My first child was beautiful, as were all those who followed.

   They were babies, like any other, but for their tender white wings that
grew and stretched as they nursed at my breasts.

   The others knew that my lover was a god.

   The men will tell you lies.  Someday they will write that Leda was raped
by the swan because they cannot believe that the greatest of the gods would
ask a girl for her permission.  The men will lie.  I tell you, the swan
loved me: stern, acrid, large, undissuadable--but he loved me, and did not
hurt me any more than was necessary to pour into me the stuff of sons and
daughters.



   (author comment)

   I wonder how many readers will be familiar with the myth of Leda & the
Swan.  This will go over a few heads.  The last lines borrow from Walt
Whitman's poem "A Woman Waits for Me".  


-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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