She curls up against my abdomen
As though trying to get as close as she can
To the warmth of the womb
She was outcast from only days ago,
With the fervency of faith filled parishioners
Begging in unfathomable tongues
To return to the comfort of their god.
Perhaps god is merely our mothers.
Do men not spend their days
Searching for their way back into the womb?
Who but God holds claim to creation
Or may cast down death without consequence?
Even man is birthed from our name!
Could it be god was made in our image?
And if that is the case, should we women not
Treat our bodies as the holy temple
No longer allowing sinners to enter without due repentance.
What if we taught our daughters a new faith
Bless only the men who worship on their knees
Who lift hands up with offerings
Seeking humble favor of their holy queens?
Ah yes, women must be the deity.
While men have wasted generations
Rewriting the story of the male savior,
That we may forget it was woman alone who made him
Man had nothing to do with it.
Salvation was formed in our womb, birthed between our legs,
Fed at our breast, and offered by our hands.
Tonight hold your daughters close
Whisper these truths into their souls
And let us remind men that they may not enter heaven
Until they truly believe.
