love

I long for a miracle maker in the family
Some woman
Who
Did not cede her power
Some woman
Who knows
Who
She is
And why she is
Here.
(to have you
my mother said once
and i wanted more as i filled out the college applications
what more could i want even now as i write this
more than love?)

They don’t exist
Here
At Christmas
This odd holiday
That has nothing to do with me

I would rather
Make my own
Rather than
pay homage to
This prophet
I don’t think was any more a prophet
Than

Than
I don’t know any prophets

This is what the graffiti on the power box says:
This war for oil only
Makes blood boil

Oil from the prophet’s land
Happy birthday jesus
I don’t know you
And never did

But i don't buy the father story
And i don't know you because
The women taught me to love
beyond all things
although i was never dressed in my sunday best
i learned in spite of some dark rules
past letters and grids and wheat
vast oppressions
(however slight, however much i want to roll my eyes at this, i must admit- yes! we overcome)
past the reconsecration of goddesses to saints
past the slavery and the witch hunts and the strip clubs
past all those filters that were made
to make it possible that no national holiday is held solely in celebration of a woman
that
love
love that great glue of the closest kind
cannot be changed by any church book story
love is a mother
love was
is
will be
a woman