The Song

Mountains capped with snow
naturfreund_pics on Pixabay no copyright

Looking back across the steppes, we saw the endless grass sea break upon the foothills of our homeland. The sun rose behind our mountains and sank at their feet each night.

We had to flee when the priests raised themselves above our Mothers. We moved on into the sunset. Looking back with tears, we took the idols, the stories, and our ripe wombs and kept moving. We kept the Song safe from the men, as we always have done, always must do.



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Observer. At your service on your Journey to the East. I exist somewhere between rural Scotland and the 49th dimension. Don’t forget to breathe.