I was born into a world
that has failed me—
failed me, utterly, abjectly.
I was born into a world
where hypocrisy is crowned,
where truth is punished,
and conscience robs me of sleep.
I was born into a world
that bruises God’s palette—
the beautiful colors of creation
faded by cruelty and scorn.
I was born into a world
where some are deemed less than human,
their dignity stripped,
their humanity erased.
I was born into a world
where evil is sanctified,
worshipped,
echoed in hollow prayers.
And God—
Where is Mother God?
Where is She?
Who is She?
I mean…
Where is the Woman,
the Super God,
the Divine She?
I was born into a world
where freedom is a forbidden word,
and dignity denied
to children with eyes like stars.
I was born into a cruel world
where innocence is slaughtered,
where women and children
are hunted like beasts—
beasts, beasts, beasts.
I was born into a world
of extinction,
genocide wrapped in silence,
and the echo of “where?”
Where, oh where, oh where?
I was born into a world
that has failed me.
And I wish—
I wish my dog would sing to God.
Yes, sing to God.
Yes, sing to Her.
Because they are beasts.
Beasts.
They kill children and women
as if they were beasts.
My Dog Willow knows.
And yet, yet
Yet still—
beneath the olive trees,
the land remembers.
Its roots whisper lullabies
to mothers who dare to dream
with eyes wide open,
cradling hope in trembling arms.
The soil sings of children
who once danced in dust,
whose laughter kissed the wind
before it was silenced.
And still—
the goddess watches,
her breath in every breeze,
her tears in every dew.
She is here.
She is near.
She is the dream
that refuses to die.