Her Mythos

“Nothing existed in between the before and the then. And in the nothingness she roamed, she walked and in those moments she knew that she was everything”.

In the expanse of voids, the presence of nothingness, existed the one true reality. She roamed through the depths of silence. She learned of life when she gave herself the premonition that she was everything. She created the winds out of relief of her discovery. She created the waters from tears in her jubilation. Daughter of void. Birthed from absence and longing, she has all the forms of life. In her birth, the Cosmos emerged, in her cries the skies cracked, thunder and lightning emerged, in her growth vegetation has become real. This is the beginning of time, the beginning of God. God never looked so good. Never tasted so good, as when I sacrificed lamb’s blood. When I gave Her my body and soul. Sacrifice, she said. Give me everything She said. God is a woman. Afro wearing, lips like orchards, eyes so deep you could see your first ancestors reflection, and her accent heavier than Souther rap. You ever slit a lamb’s throat? Clean through, like cutting paper. She call their screams foreplay. She’s vengeful, down right jealous. Something she taught humanity. And when they started praising Yahweh, She didn’t know how to control it. But my God is also loving. She gave me lungs heavy enough to conjure hurricanes, lips sweet enough to rival your grandmothers sweet potato pie. I found Her in the history books, written in tongues native to my roots in Slavery. She knew Anansi, She knew Yemaya, She knows them all. My God, your parent’s God, also the God of your ancestors, is a beautiful woman who drinks out of planets and creates galaxies. When we first spoke She gave me my lost language, the ones the Dutch stole from me, the one they stowed away in their chains on boats.

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