Tuesday, 25 March 2014
They say there was a type of human
Aeons of the ancient world ago
Whom they called Woman.
Who remembers why,
But it is rumoured,
It was something like a goddess
And connected, if it can be properly believed
With the bringing forth of life itself.
You ask me who believes such folly
Or how could such a strange thing be
But there are stranger things
Than we can see
Through science or philosophy.
There was a word used to describe this human;
And in her body,
Do not be alarmed,
There was a living place
Where human life could form.
No, no, She wasn’t a machine.
The strange thing was,
This life was personal.
SHE was not a vessel,
But most intimately made,
To be so sensitive,
That something called relationship
Was possible for her.
Yes, even with the tiniest things.
They say, in legend, even with
The Unseen things.
I speak a heresy, I know
‘All things detectable by our machines
Are all there is
And these we take
And forge them to our purposes’
I know our creed.
I cannot help but wonder at the fact
‘She’ was not forged by us.
No, no, I can assure you
‘She’ was not conceived by man.
You are astounded
Yet, if tales be true
The strangeness pushes further on.
Beyond the coming of the perfect androgyne
And the Many Gendered, now Ungendered race,
There was a time when humans had
To look at Otherness in a human face
And all was not constructed in an image
There was a moment when our thoughts went upwards
Who can say to where
But how I long to find..
I am a shape that’s built for no one.
I can only dream
That somewhere in the ancient past
There was a place where we, as humans
Knew there was a
Ah indeed those old forbidden words.
Do not erase the words I speak
For when they take me, old historian
No one will know the secret
That was left behind
Sarah de Nordwall 22nd March 2014