I worship you, he said.
He said,
I’ll lock this door
And draw those curtains closed
And cut that phone line
To keep you safe from the world.
For after all this is what
We do with women.
We worship them like saints
Keep them like precious things
Protect them from temptations
And hungry eyes and the wrong kind of dreams.
See: I do it all for you,
He said.
She said, flexing her feet of clay,
Worship me then.
Worship me in the way they did
In the time before saints
When we were goddesses and witches and queens.
Worship me with blood
With heart’s blood poured out on the sand
And every pulse a song of my name.
Worship me, she said.
She said,
Say a prayer now, this minute.
And she flexed her fingers of clay
Around the trigger.
Behind the Scenes: For several years I was a crisis counselor in domestic violence programs, helping women and their children escape toxic, abusive relationships. We often called upon the archetypes of powerful women and goddesses to help them recognize their own power and worth.
About the Creator
Jean McKinney
Writer and artist reporting back from the places where the mundane meets the magical, with new stories and poems every week. Creator of the fantasy worlds of the Moon Road and Sorrows Hill. Learn more and get a free story at my LinkTree.
Comments (4)
There is antique power in this poem.
Stunning and so meaningful & powerful to read as a woman!
Holy crapola! the ending startled me but that is good. Keep doing these so victims can become warriors. ❣️
Love it. Well done!