Three Knocks
A Random Drabble...
With three knocks I am summoned from slumber.
—Knock—One for my mind to see
—Knock—One for my body to feel
—Knock—One for my spirit to follow
As my toes travel the cool grass, the warmth of your velvet embrace bears down from above, your stars sparkling, “rest your bones here”… these wooded limbs, their needled nails pull me deeper still…. “rest your bones here”… I am made powerless as you wrap about me, my feet sinking, the dirt rising, the ivy crawling, and my voice falls silent. I cannot scream under the weight of your voluptuous twilight. And I know now the hysteria of the mouse as he wears the snake: there was no escaping this lightless void.
My head tilts back and releases my heart’s final cry-- only to be met with three knocks.
—Knock—One for my mind to see
—Knock—One for my body to feel
—Knock—One for my spirit to follow
The sun returned me to my start, as a panting, sheet-tangled thing.
{{My original photography: Full Moon in Cancer}}
Thank you for the restack Mark! I’m grateful to you!
Emiila,
This feels incantatory in the best of ways — the three knocks aren’t just repetition, they summon the piece into being. Each return pulls the body deeper, until language itself starts to sink and the voice gives way to sensation.
There’s a beautiful mythic murkiness here — snake and mouse, velvet night, rooted limbs — where surrender replaces agency without ever tipping into violence. It feels cyclical rather than linear, like something ancient closing its loop.
What stays with me most was the return: the spell broken, but the body still marked. That final image grounds the whole descent in lived sensation.
Dark, powerful, and deeply embodied.
Loved it!