Her unseeing eyes see me,

More clearly than I could ever have dreamed.

Her kindness envelops me like sunlight, 

Chasing away terrors that have haunted me since the day 

I was turned by the Mother.

 

My Mother, my Goddess,

Eternal in her wisdom.

They say she cursed me,

Punished me,

Ruined me,

Marred my beauty with stone and scales.

 

She smells of honeysuckle and spring,

Like an adventure and coming home

all at once.

Her beauty is proof that the Mother

Smiles upon me from her throne.

 

My Mother, My Goddess,

Everlasting in her mercy.

Her curse was protection,

Her punishment a kindness.

This ruined form haunts the dreams of violent men,

These scales a reflection of their darkest fears.

 

Her touch revives me,

Breathes life into my hardened soul.

She knows my pain,

My fear,

My love,

And accepts all in equal measure. 

 

My Mother, my Goddess,

Infinite in her gentleness,

Holds me tight the night,

When his hands once again reach

to take what I would not give,

When my blood stained Her Holy House,

When my beauty was my greatest curse.

 

Her arms hold me tight when my body shakes,

When his words crawl across my skin.

“You want this,” he groans.

“You’re safe now,” she whispers.

And he melts away into darkness.

 

My Mother, my Goddess,

Steadfast in her guidance.

I feel her presence at the marches,

Hear her voice in every cry,

“Me too,” they say,

Some a whisper,

Some a scream.

Things are different now.

 

She stands with me at the rally.

Where I am a pebble,

She is a mountain.

Her strength fuels me to fight.

 

My Goddess blessed me with stone and scales,

With armor to defend,

And weapons to attack.

 

My angel blessed me with her warmth,

With her patient kindness,

And her beautiful heart.

 

My Mother holds my spirit,

My lover holds my hand,

And we each raise our fists in a one-fingered salute

To all the men who have tried to break us.

We are made of stone and scales,

And we will not be broken.