Handed down to me through the centuries
Disembodied incubator of incarnation.
Or maybe dormition
Adoration and contrition
Queen of our hearts
Mother of God
Or maybe not.
I can not be this mythic mother.
I am fleshy and embodied
I can not detach, detangle, dismiss my humanness.
I can not juggle all these things.
I can not be all these people.
My vagina has been stretched by sex and birth and death.
My body will decay- sometimes I feel like I’m falling apart.
My heart is not always open.
I am not always serene.
I am not clean.
Yet, mythic mother who lost a child
I lost two too.
So I wonder if there is more to you than meets the eye
Icons don’t always speak the truth.