Eves Only

The incredible artwork of Byron Jorjorian.

Right of Admission Reserved.

No, you did not just call me a loose woman. You did not just assume that when I gave you my heart, free of all inhibitions and fear, I meant for it to be your price for the war you would wage against my soul later. I gave of myself a free woman. I did so to purge myself of all that was holding me back from claiming what was mine, all that was borne for my glory. I chose love, let’s not be caught up in empty assumptions. I chose the wind that floods from within and raises the soul up into flight. When I chose I did not consider that you would be stuck pinned to the earth by your groin. I did not fathom that you would be so heavy of your self-importance that the earth would stick like wet clay under your feet, even when the winds called for your flight.

 You missed your call from the heavens; don’t call me loose. Don’t call me loose when after each time you jab at my flash with your conceited retorts of a false love I still remain by the side of true love. Love could never let me down as you do. You deceive yourself by thinking you know what fuels the hearth of a woman’s soul. How could you know of my soul when you spend more time plotting to have my flesh submerged under your ego? Does the prospect of being loved repel you so that you disregard what love’s caress to perpetually return to feeding the monstrous canons in your mind? To what end will that mauled, frail, canon infested mind of yours rule your flesh? It renders you unclad and I see the fright and self-reproach you fight to hide with your man-handling of my mind. This thick skin I am clothed in, the one you enjoy so much to feel up, is but a lustrous coat of royalty draping my inner light. Your flesh is a mockery for through it I see you for who you really are.

 Don’t dare say to my face, “women don’t know what they want”. When I look into my life I see all that I want reverent to the tides of my life. I see my empty purse brim with promise, my career slanting south so it may be rocketed upward with purpose by the shooting waters of my eminent destiny. I see my lonely hours filled with laughter and adventure, festered with such peace within which only love can abide. When I gaze into the eyes of my fatherless children I see a hero, a warrior woman arise again and again, never without a song of heart ringing from her heart, from a blinding fog of endless battles. She prays into the night, fielding the battle zone of childhood fevers and ails with valour and fearlessness while somewhere across town the man whose seed was once sown in her wanders aimlessly for validation between the thighs of souls he will never be brave enough to choose to know. 

 I heard you were ordained to be the head of my neck by your forefathers and wonder if you have the strength to add grace to my broad shoulders, my large heart, my firm legs, my steady feet. Can the head charm my feet into breaking into a dance so bewitching it opens the skies and lets down tears from the heavens? Can this head with such a mouth quieten long enough to witness truth in the rhythmic thumping of a heart filled with love? When you were an incomplete creation, an Adam, my soul was forming to its completion to resemble the enthralling majesty of the universe. Yet you take pride in having raced to arrive first. The earth may be yours yet the universe belongs to my kind, to the daughters of Ya Asantewa the valiant, to the priestess immaculate Nefertiti, the fervent beauty Makeda. It is sketched like henna in the palms of the Luvhedu queens of years gone and to come, webbed like rich jewels on the gleaming foreheads of Nandi’s daughters. I am as they are; I too carry God in me and She resides in me as me.

You sadden me to the core of my soul for you refuse wisdom like it were a leper. In my kind you have the entire secret of creation embroided and laid for you to rest your feet. You hunt for pleasure and forget that the earth onto which you thrash your prey is but a whole in the wall. Somewhere out there, an entire village of heaven looks on into this gaping hole with stun, blowing blessings onto those whose divinations you call loose. The first gift you ever received was love my brother; why do you not know him when he is your kin? It was for him that the earth was clenched, disfigured and strewn into water and formed lovingly into your being. The winds and stars, the sun and skies were the only miracles to have been created until one day Love kissed your heart and left behind its amply sweet scent and made king above all that was created before you. At the very least you could show compassion, but that too is as strange to you as a foreign tongue. You call me loose when it is you that is coming apart at the seams.

I will make it rain for you one last time and share a blessing: unto you I set the blessing of freedom. You are to walk out of my priced life and never look back. Walk till the barren earth forgets your footsteps, till you are born anew and bear no memory of your malice towards me and others before me.

Walk till history is re-written, till once more man’s son shows reverence for the gift of love and contempt for that which enslaves the flesh, makes him weak and cowardly. 

Walk till you reach the peak of your highest rise and from whence you will come to see what you have shed. See how magnificent giving of yourself, your heart in earnest to a daughter of man can come to feel. Learn to refrain from playing careless games with God’s creations, to speak mindfully and with compassion since you too were borne of a woman’s womb.

I will make it rain heavily on you, with all of my love-filled blessings, so the trail leading back to the generosity of my heart is visible only to the eye that seeks to see through the pain of another and more so beyond her gender. Remember I gave of myself freely once and just as decisively now seize back that self for its restoration. Therefore leave knowing the doors will be sealed for that which is inside and yearns for healing and nurture, the windows open for that which grows outside and warms the inside and that the right of admission is, as ever and for always, reserved.

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