Creation Myth

Published on 29 June 2023 at 10:42

We welcome our first guest writer, Ghost! His poem, "Creation Myth" is about finding peace and recreating your image as a trans and queer person. It's about the renewing power of queer love. Ghost is a genderqueer and poly writer who loves to explore metaphors and use poetic language. They are new to submitting work but excited to do so! During the work day, she is an Electrical Engineer. They graduated from Olin College in December 2022. Ghost uses all pronouns.

Many thanks to Ghost for sharing their work with us! Scroll down to read their poem, "Creation Myth."

Image Description: A person stands with their head bent. They are so covered in clay, it is possible to imagine that they are made of clay.

Credit: Mahdi Bafande / Unsplash via Webador

I was created out of the mud

Not by someone else-
Though they claimed me

 

I made myself,
Hands dirty,
Mouth dirty,
Body dirty and ugly,
I thought at least,
But they spoke          at me
With desirability
With knowledge        about me
But really,
Ownership of me.


I solidified under their gaze,
The heat from them,
They believed themselves to be the sun,
But only burned, never gave,
I became immobile and unmovable
A statue in their image
To look at it, in a cultivated garden,
With sprinklers that would never touch my skin
Though I ached for them too


Until, the rain came,
The droplets on my skin..
Each a gentle kiss
An acknowledgement of belonging to the earth
A melting into the soil
From where I came


I moved in the water, fluid,
Sweet on my lips
My family and my lover
Touch with no hesitation
Fully and wholly taken


With my new movement,
I thought I’d take vengeance
That’s what the others thought at least,
When they directed their insecurity
Their rage                                  at their own bodies
Their misunderstanding          about their own bodies

 

But when I realized
I had ownership of my own body
No one else
Could make me still again
I would move towards love
I could move, because of love


Even if the last of me,
In a torrent,
Becomes washed into the tall grasses
I will be just as fresh
Ready to remold myself
Over and over again


Ready to remake a new clay body
When the sun, the true sun,
Warms me in its light
So that I may rise and form
Create my hands to shape my legs
To stand and make the rest of me
To dance and bask in the bright light
To lay and consume the night


And wait and wait
For the rain to come
My lover come back again
Wash me away,
So I may start over
I will see you again


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