Myth-inspired poetry in progress

“When in the height heaven was not named,
And the earth beneath did not yet bear a name,
And the primeval Apsu, who begat them,
And chaos, Tiamut, the mother of them both
Their waters were mingled together,
And no field was formed, no marsh was to be seen;
When of the gods none had been called into being,
And none bore a name, and no destinies were ordained…”

Tiamat speaks to her progeny, who have slain her:

This is no killing
see, I have become the sky
when your eyes cast upwards,  does it not break upon my body?

You have not drained me of blood or years or even of motherly milk
My children
The nectar you have wrought from me,

death from death, war from war
It roils like waves,
It trickles from me like tears
It has become all the waters of the earth

Sweet ones,
You cannot make me raise my voice,
For all the destruction on an eternal day
For this murder that you have done me in your treachery
I am the burst of a blood red sun stretches itself against the sky
And clouds dawning on the waters,

You have not killed me, my children my sons and my daughters my demons
For what you have yanked from me has become the sky
my organs encase the heavens
and my bosom,
your crops and your tombs.

ps- something lighthearted and non “mythy”  next time, I promise

Published by Valerie Freseman

Valerie Freseman is a Unitarian Universalist minister and a 2014 graduate of Union Theological Seminary. She completed a chaplain residency at Saint Francis Hospital and Medical Center in Hartford, CT, and served as the first year-long Killam Ministerial intern at the First Unitarian Church of Cleveland. She is passionate about spinning the inter-dependent web, creating a more just world, and applying the arts to faith.  She is also becoming increasingly well-known for her sock collection.

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