I was too young when the divorce happened.
Mother and Father loved each other,
People say I got my mom’s body and my dad’s spirit.
Once upon a time we celebrated them.
Our old houses and temples, buried in Canaanite deserts, still tell the history:
Walls full of pictures and inscriptions cherishing our Parents’ love: The Fertility Goddess and the Lord of the Mountain. Earth and Heaven, Asherah and El.
Ashtoreth and Yaweh.
I don’t know why they fought, nor why he threw all her stuff out of his house.
I mean, isn’t everything their house?
All I know is my Brothers and Sisters insist that our Father is the one who provides everything.
They say we should just forget Mother.
That our Parent is One, only One.
To my brothers, Mother is either a silent servant
Who does Father’s will,
Or a whoring serpent
who bites his Son’s heel.
Oh Mother, Mother, Mother,
We feed from your breast while we taint your seas.
Oh Mother, Mother, Mother,
We haven’t seen Father in two thousand years. But my brothers and sisters worship him. Yes, only him. To him all power and honor and glory, to him who will redeem us from you, he who will come and burn you, destroy you, to create a new you, in which there won’t be you, but only Him.
You who gestate us, you who are ever one with us, that we may be one with him.
Oh Father, our jealous Father,
Thou who art in Heaven,
Have mercy.
Yet, maybe…
It just might be,
My brothers and sisters are wrong.
If Father and Mother divorced, how can they both be
Dancing, Together
In me?
Photo by JOHN TOWNER on Unsplash
TheoCité 