When God was Born

by riverwilding

When God was born, I was there.

I saw her as she slipped quicksilver

from Sophia– her hair standing tall

like fire.

 

When God was born, the midwife

said: “Look, she has extra digits.”

Behind her thumbs, new thumbs had sprung

to hold fast her mother’s wisdom.

 

Then I saw her grown, woman.

God a bride in white,

God a crone in black,

God with thumbs bent back.

 

And her wrath was nestled

like new life

beneath my stomach.

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