Mother, your blood and milk have made me strong. You, made me strong. Forged me through the ills of our culture. In its misogyny, its fragile masculinity, its overcompensation, its everything. You made me out of mountains and skies. Out of rivers and fire. You spoke wisdom when I was in your womb. You gave me hope. You are hope. Mother, I call you Hephaestus, for you molded me from volcanoes. My mother, I love you.