
The sun rose on the waning gibbous moon, and man confessed he was not the key. Praise be to the Heavenly Hosts above, for out of man's mouth truth has flowed.
The sun rose on the last quarter moon, and man relinquished all power pronouncing through deed the dawn of the woman; now, man must kneel to the divinity within woman once denied.
Ye, we know the history; man claimed us, defined us, named us, then placed the fall of man on our shoulders, regarding women as temptresses and magicians of great mysticism as if we came from the dust of the earth and not their flesh. Only a fool blames the branches for the sins of the roots.
I once stood eyes cast down, bent waist, on my face, trembling before man, repenting of my sins, cursing my flesh, whipping my back; but now I stand eyes straight-ahead, bent at the waist trembling on my face no more, beckoning to thee, for if I must stand guilty of the sins of man and his descension into depravity than I shall too stand guilty of his ascension and claim deed and title to his authority on earth and release not my grip till man stands for his crimes and suffers the foot of the woman on his neck till mercy cries out from his soul.

Tell me, shall I call you a whore as I rape and pillage you on the floor? or shall I regard you as evil and keep you under my thumb permanently? I beckon to thee; shall I recount my pain at nauseam and never once turn my ear to yours? Tell me, shall I count you as incompetent and turn the nations against you so that everywhere you go subservientism is your only right? Tell me, shall I belittle your existence to inconsequential? Tell me, shall I pursue you in jest then tear you down with my words then audaciously ask of you to be my voiceless slave to remain in my presence? Tell me, shall I accuse you of infidelity and disloyalty as I ogle and thirst after every sight? Tell me, is this the life you desire? No, then why is it the life you gave?
Now, I pray for thee, fear not the dawn, for woman may be of man, but she is not man. For it is written, I confessed my sins as you coward, and for this and this alone is why you fell.

~ The End
About the Creator
Anne R.
Life is a fable.
For live readings that breathe life into the page, or to discuss bringing a book into bloom through publication or partnership, I welcome inquiries at [email protected].



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