Bwạwyd the Earthmother

"At the beginning of the world grew a single Pear Tree. From its fruit was born the moon and stars and all their offspring and, from it came forth the first woman: rich as ebony with hair like the night sky. From her womb grew all earthly things: men and their children; the birds and the earthbound; the crops and creeping things and all the earth's wonders. The woman chose a man for her mate-- this one twined through the skill of her hands --and through him they had many children. But his eyes were wandering and his heart devious. He dreamt of things not of the earth, and planned to slay the woman and gain her power, so that he might remake the world in his own image; bright and burning, like his furious heart. He did not know that the woman's power was of the Tree, and thus immutable. It could not be either lost or gained.

"When he raised his fist against the woman, the earth turned against him. The lioness, with her claws, the jackdaw, with his keen mind, and the jackal with his pack, jaws strong at the man's heels. The vines bound him to ground, and the woman took her revenge.

"But, she pitied the man, and so she set his heart amongst the stars, that it might brighten the world as he had, in his egotism, dreamt.

"And the woman's name, my sweet," Ḍryf said, chuckling as she carded her hand through her daughter's hair, "was Bwạwyd, the mother of us all."

Bwạwyd giggled. "Again mama, again!"

"But, dearest, that is not the end of the story. One day, all this will fade, for the Earthmother has taken her leave. The lioness will set upon the jackals, the vines upon the jackdaw, the man's heart will cease to beat, and all will fall to ruin and despair. Nothing good will remain, except, love, except...

"At the end of the world will grow anew, a single Pear Tree. And whomsoever eats of it will become the god of the world to be. This has been foretold."

"Who, mama? Who will it be that eats the pear?"

"I do not know, my child. Only that it will not be me, nor your father, for we are far too aged for godship and ruling!" She smiled, and tucked Bwạwyd under the furs. "Sleep well, my sweet, and dream. Dream of the world to come."

Bwạwyd grew strong of body and spirit under her parents' tutelage; she outwitted the jackdaw and outran the jackal. She took her machete to the vines and they yielded before her. The lioness ran when she heard her roar.

It was growing time for her to take a mate, yet always she refused. "The men of this village are not strong enough, mama," she would groan, "so I must seek out another."

But she never left the place of her birth, nor her parents' house.

Instead, she cultivated an orchard: pear trees as far as the eye could see. And when her parents passed it was with a promise: she would see them again beneath the new moon and stars.

Time flew ever onward, and Bwạwyd grew old. With no children to care for her, she tended the fire until her joints would have no more, she twined the baobab until her fingers bled, she farmed the nyami until her legs gave way. The vultures circled her aging house, as she could not properly clean her kills.

Soon, there was no baobab to twine or eat, no nyami to farm, and no purpose for a fire when the kills were so few. Even the vultures ceased their circling.

She turned, then, to her ancient orchard, long forgotten in her dotage. The trees were ill; their roots rotten and their fruit full of maggots. Their bark peeled and their leaves gave way to drought. Of all her once bountiful garden, she could find only a single fruit.

Bwạwyd shrugged, and took her final bite. The earth spun beneath her feet, the stars cycled overhead. She felt frail and impossibly small, until she could feel no more.

A faint sound, like a heartbeat. It grew and grew, louder with each passing day, until it blared, loud as the drums of war. But no war would come to this silver haven, for there were none left to wage it.

Finally, finally. The skin of the fruit snapped, and out poured the body of Bwạwyd, young again. Her skin was rich as the finest ebony, her hair shone like the night sky, and from her womb would be born all earthly things. But for now, Bwạwyd smiled, and waited.

The cycle would begin again. But she had time, yet.