everything the wiccan girl wants to say in her “hebrew poetry” class but doesn’t revolt! something must be done, she has been tragically turned into a he and now our loving mother has become a father we must fear. these biblical poems preach their david, michael, jacob and jonah constantly stressing the fathergod figure with no regard to the world that lived before, and i alone shout we used to thrive in matriarchy the first worship symbols, found in caves, in hieroglyphs were the horned goddess, the willendorf mother— planted in the corn and the wheat thirty thousand years ago because everyone knew they made life grow. odd one out. crazyhaired girl in corner too incendiary for this crowd, one comment early on and i am instant . “non-believer!” they bellow— may as well throw stones or talk of burning me at the stake. yet how i do believe. when ere the moon is full or new, and on holy days decreed in ages past, yes i am present, on my knees. but the deity to whom i pray does not ask me to live in fear of her shadow. my papa never understood— a pillar of the synagogue, his picture on the wall long before he passed. he said, “there is great poetry in the bible,” so i honored his memory with this class. didn’t figure it’d be an equal match: learn/suffer. (cont. new stanza) feel a little isolated contemplating:. when god was a woman there were thousands of years without war. when the lord was our mother we didn’t rape and pillage as we do now. too much of humanity is <> in a book from an era known for its misogyny. our father who art in heaven, please help us bring your mother back to life.