Bailey Rafter

We are the children of Mother faiths.

Faith, fervor filled, in she who was original.

Origins lost, strange Gods somewhat forgotten.

Preamble to all, on the banks of the Euphrates.

All governed by laws known in nature.

Nature, abandoned in vain, in search of an honorable Father.

Rendered from the wombs of “Holy” Women.

Woman, birthed in the Cradle of Humanity, killed.

Hu-man-ity is master in Mesopotamia.

Adulterous followers of a painful God.

No, not God. Man, masochistic in repentance of a guilty conscience.

Masochism is that new law. A replacement.

Words. Seasons. Celebrations. Stolen.

Traditions of times past crucified.

Sacrificed on the altar of the pursuit of divinity.

False witness bore on men and women.

“He, who has not sinned, shall throw the first stone”?

Bodies slung in trees, tapered candles on hooks.

Incense smoke curls in curls of girls praying.

Prayers to Mother that she may covet her daughters.

Daughters whose hair also filled with smoke.

As their skirt hems blazed.