I no longer pray— now I drink dark chocolate and let the moon sing to me.
I no longer pray— I let my ancestors dance through my hips at the slightest provocation.
I no longer pray— I go to the river and howl my ancient pain into the current.
I no longer pray— I ache, I desire, I say “yes” to my longing.
I no longer pray as I was taught but as the stars crawl onto my lap like soft animals at nighttime and God tucks my hair behind my ears with the gentle fingers of her wind and a new intimacy is uncovered in everything, perhaps it’s that I’m finally learning how to pray.
god is a mother and with that sentence the world stops the world always stops when woman and divine commingle as if the feminine dilutes the miraculous when in reality it embodies it when jesus turns water to wine they clap but when women turn breasts to milk they cringe a broken man’s body is celebrated each sunday while a broken woman’s body is just hidden away and it’s no wonder that mother is a word used by men to demonize those who don’t claim the name and weaponized to shame those who step out of line because their ideal woman plays the role of nurturer and silencer in pews built and led by them but when god becomes mother she is neither quiet or compliant she leads confidently she questions authority she commands respect which might be the problem for mother god did not gather us up carelessly but took her time with it she fed us milk birthed our souls and broke her body and the permanence can be uncomfortable and to disentangle god from motherhood Is impossible but to disentangle god from womanhood is sinful because seeing god as mother is one step closer to seeing god in me and it’s in that i am truly born again
~Kaitlin Hardy Shetler
Image: A new mother nurses her baby unknown photographer
we need a god who bleeds now a god whose wounds are not some small male vengeance some pitiful concession to humility a desert swept with dryin marrow in honor of the lord we need a god who bleeds spreads her lunar vulva & showers us in shades of scarlet thick & warm like the breath of her our mothers tearing to let us in this place breaks open like our mothers bleeding the planet is heaving mourning our ignorance the moon tugs the seas to hold her/to hold her embrace swelling hills/i am not wounded i am bleeding to life we need a god who bleeds now whose wounds are not the end of anything
“I who am the beauty of the green earth and the white moon among stars and the mysteries of the waters, I call upon your soul to arise and come unto me. For I am the soul of nature that gives life to the universe. From Me all things proceed and unto Me they must return. Let My worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold— all acts of love and pleasure are My rituals. Let there be beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you. And you who seek to know Me, know that your seeking and yearning will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am that which is attained at the end of desire.”
adapted from Doreen Valiente’s Charge of the Goddess