The Mother

“before we gave it to them”

That was the phrase that boomed through my mind – “before we gave it to them.”

The Mother was full of time, heavy with existence, gravid with process. Her body was like rough-hewn stone, like rich loam, like warm, soft flesh. Her breasts were ever-heavy with milk, her limbs utterly strong, her head a swirling storm of features. A winged serpent issued forth from between her legs.

In her presence, I felt small and very young, but not insignificant. No one could feel insignificant with the weight of that all-eyed gaze upon them. The air was thick with her embrace.

Significance is not always a comfortable thing. I grew hot in her presence, began to melt and run like wax. Shaped and sculpted by her perception, I was.

“before we gave it to them”

I understood. The first pure gift, and the first betrayal.

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