the .moon's. quiet. daughter

h.o.m.e ............s.a.r.a.h...e.l.w.e.l.l ............ e.l.s.e.w.h.e.r.e .............s.e.e.d.s...&...s.t.a.r.s ............d r e a m i n g...t.a.l.e.s

July 4, 2017

children of the first mother

You are a child of the First Mother. The snake-eyed smiling woman who took responsibility for her choices; the woman who looked like she grew up from the dirt and the secret tree roots, but had a heart as vast and wild as the sky. You are a child of the dirt and the wild.

You who are wild yourself, with a tameless laugh and never enough time.

Or you who are gentle and quiet.

You who want to tuck yourself in the embrace of a man, safe and unshamed, desiring comfort rather than the fierce horizons.

You who are men.

For the Mother is a seed-singer, fire-bringer. She is wild and she acquiesces. She is brown, loam-hearted and pale, tough as summer's light. I went looking for art of her to illustrate this post and found image after image of slenderness, fine-boned gorgeousness, supple wrists, knowing eyes. I found none of a goddess whose face was ravaged with grief, tears falling like acidified oceans, like oil from cracked pipes. I found no goddess webbed with stretchmarks. No crop-haired punk-styled bird goddess. No goddess with a smile like a vagina. No goddess made of stars and rot and smoke. (I know I can find such images in particular places, but I was deliberately looking at the popular collection of pictures and memes.)

I learned that "wise women have always been healers" - never mind that wise women know when the prairie must burn. I learned that some women are "disgusting" because they choose to live their womanhood supine, like a field opening to the sky, within the patriarchal framework. These are things the old earth-mother wisdom never taught me.

It said instead, the goddess is all things womanly. And the first Mother might have been anything. And her children are everyone.

We all have a right to claim our sacred inheritance. The wild women and the passive women, the men, the dancing boys, the solemn bookish girls. There may be one or two wrong ways of being human, but there are no right ways. And until we can embrace everyone, in their smallness and grandeur, their need and power, their toothlessness and their symmetrical gorgeousness, we will never truly know the Divine.

(photograph credit unknown, found on - well, everywhere. normally I don't use uncredited pictures but it's been an hour and I can't find another suitable one, and this is widely dispersed, please let me know if you have the copyright.) 

1 comment:

  1. A resounding yes to this. I think I am drawn to "black madonnas" largely because of reasons/feelings much like you have articulated here. Somehow, I think you will know what I mean.