Our Mother, Who Art in Heaven
I’ve been cut off
from the Divine Feminine.
Shut down again and again
by my Christian brothers'
self-defined, deceptively benign beliefs
in a he-ified — I mean, deified Christ.
For the whitemalegod is a self-selecting savior
who honors toxic masculine behavior
and saves all the Adams but her.
This misogynistic gospel they proclaim
truncates my sinuous frame
to the "sin" in its name
'til I believe that to breathe
as an Eve is a shame.
And each day that I awake,
this he-manistic, pseudo-scriptural faith
molests my breast,
subtracts my breath,
'til I collapse my chest
beneath the weight of being She.
But what if the Sacred Herself
is already inside of you? Inside of me?
Would it be sacrilege to say
that we are made in Her image?
For the Holy She is at the heart of all religion.
She's been birthing us earthlings
from the very beginning.
And all creation has been groaning
as it hears us disowning
the Womb of All Knowing.
For we've forgot the Rock
who begot us.
The One who weaned us with Her Wisdom,
who comforts us in season,
whose Mother-Love is fearsome.
For Hers is the Queendom,
a diverse space of freedom
for all who have been oppressed
for their very nature — now called blessed.
Come, let us worship Our Lady of Good Death:
as in adoration we die to the false selves
for which we’ve strived,
letting go of the patriarchal perceptions of our lives,
the hyper-masculine misconceptions that belie
the truths of our soul cries.
May we embrace the face of God
in each of us
and trust that regardless of how we pray
or say Her name
Their love is the same as
yesterday, today, and forever.