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“Why would I ever call you ‘beautiful’ when I can call you Edith? Your name is interchangeable to that word’s meaning. In it, the scope of everything I wish to look at in this world is outlined.”
She is strong as you have said, said Sister Sea to Mother Earth. She is my daughter, said my goddess.
I closed my eyes. “I know that you cannot talk with me anymore, but I know, I know, you hear me. I cannot rest in peace if I know everyone is grieving me, hoping for recovery. Let my spirit depart from whatever hold it has on my body.” There was a sigh on the breeze. And, finally, she spoke. You never ask. You never ask for life. You always ask for the smallest portion. Ask for your return, girl. Claim your life for once. Do not bargain with it, the inevitable end of it always in mind. Ask for the whole of it. It breaks your goddess’s heart to watch you see it as worthless, as nothing but
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My mother says all women are mothers in different ways, that we all give birth, just not all to children. She says some women give birth to revolutions, to movements, to sanctuary, to art, to brilliance.
