Yes, those are two piles of bloody, severed breasts.
Yes, that is a symbolic image of some type of demonic force standing in between the two piles – some dark, demonic priest, paying homage to the almighty dollar.
Yes, those are compliant worshippers, speaking the specifically crafted words that echo into this world like incense to a false god in the name of honoring pronouns.
Yes, in the distance is a simple representation of Life and the Garden, of sorts…indicating this immediate scene is outside of the Shalom of God. Outside of all that is good, right and holy in God’s good creation.
Yes, those are cursed, barren trees shooting up from the nipples of two piles of bloody mutilation, to which we are being forced to confess as not only acceptable, but to affirm as good, natural, scientific and…loving.
Think about the future to come down upon all of us as we collectively shall reap that which we sow.
Already, dystopia is at our doorstep, and we seem to be mindlessly ushering it in through the deceptive and blinding forces at work, both spiritual and political.
If I ever wondered whether elites may be preying upon our most vulnerable – young children and young adults – with a hidden agenda of population control, surely I would think this fairly effective. Plus, tremendously lucrative.
Think about a world where the very symbol of life and nurture – the mother’s breast – is held with contempt and slowly becomes a given of some human past…
As I contemplate this potential world, I envision new unleashings of hell on earth.
__________
Where Shall I Suckle?
A child drew his first breath today
Crying and thrashing
Into the bare-naked, wide-open world
And,
Searching toward his mother’s nipple
And,
Finding no place to suckle
Finding no place of comfort
Finding no place to thrive
The child cried to his Creator
With words unformed
Where will I nurse?
Where will I find warmth?
Where will my life be kept safe?
Where is my mother?
Where is my father?
Jesus had no words for the child
But,
Speaking
Jesus wept
The child then asked,
Where did my mother’s breast go?
And,
Jesus covered the child’s eyes
To protect him from the sight
And,
Jesus wept
The child then asked,
Where did my father’s chest go?
And his arms, so strong?
Then,
Jesus covered the child’s eyes
To protect him from the sight
And,
Jesus wept
The child then asked,
What was my mother’s name?
Then,
Jesus wept
Unafraid
He speaks her name aloud
The child then asked,
What was my father’s name?
Then,
Jesus wept
Unafraid
He speaks his name aloud
The child then asked,
Am I alive?
Do I, too, have a dead name?
And Jesus spoke his name, saying,
Beloved.
The child then asked,
What will happen to me?
Then,
Jesus spoke to the child
In language long ago dishonored
And,
The child understood
The Word
(a poem written October 18, 2022)
Hysterectomies performed on young girls as young as seventeen years old.
Thank You For Reading
Please Feel Free To Express Your Thoughts Below
Brian
November 7, 2022You seem to have cited some important things here and have added your deep feelings in a meaningful, incisive, and also provocative way. I think you are very much on the right path here. Unfortunately, it is a path filled with pain and rejection in our dystopian world.
Brian
November 7, 2022Before reading your piece, I’d come upon this today. It is very much worth reading, I believe.
https://naturalselections.substack.com/p/psamamabears
eileenslifer
November 7, 2022Thank you. That is an important message to mothers. In that link some video links were included, also, that make a mockery of what it even means to be a woman. It was like watching a caricature, and I’m not sure why women of all different feminine-ranging personalities aren’t uniting and calling this offensive toward women, generally.
eileenslifer
November 7, 2022Thank you. Yes, I fully know it is a path filled with pain and rejection. A year ago when an older friend referred to “surgeries” I partly dismissed even the possibility of these things, making some assumption it was part of general rhetoric (though I already had feelings about the issue). Several weeks ago after hearing of Vanderbilt and exploring the topic I was horrified to learn that not only are these things medically possible (well, better phrased the “attempt” medically pursued, as it will never be medically possible to change one’s biological sex) they were in fact occurring at a significant rate and with minor children. I’m losing words for the realizations I’m coming to, and my feelings migrated to an image and poem.
As a woman the very idea of what this all involves, and means, alone, should be horrifying enough.
I’ve known close friends who have had breast cancer, and a close college friend who died from it. I’ve had glimpses into these surgeries from that perspective and the idea of this intentional mutilation is appalling. Let alone naming it healthcare and the money involved and the legislation to protect it.
While many women go without healthcare that might diagnose breast cancer early, we now are “here.”