Monday, 9 July 2018


is always there but She rarely speaks
She rarely has to.

and when She does her voice is as water
as starlight
as the teeth of a bear gnawing on alder

that strong.


Yes, I study the Bible (off and on) and yes, it moves me in ways I did not expect.

But my blood runs in rivulets, my hair grows like a weed, I am the stuff of soil and leaf, the Goddess's daughter.

God and Goddess, not in opposition, not one above the other, and especially not one cancelling out the other. It's all just words, anyway, all just stories made-up by humans to explain (away?) the inexplicable. Still, my stories, the words that I gotta use to hold my experiences if I want to share them with anyone, are in the language of woman. My being is woman.

She - the great She - is written out of that book but written into my heart. The desert god is a jealous god; he is not my god; he would disapprove of me.

No comments:

Post a Comment