Once upon a time, the children of the Earth forgot the umbilical cord that kept them alive, and their Mother could not withstand their cruel aggressions, and the atrocities they visited on the downtrodden. She held up her compassionate, open palm and spoke: “My children, be careful what you are about.”
A great plague swept across the globe, and hundreds of thousands of people died. They suffered horribly before they died, and those who were in hospitals could not say goodbye in person to their loved ones except for voices and images on screens, because it was too dangerous. Many more hundreds of thousands could not get access to testing, and could not say if the plague had befallen them, but they struggled to breathe, and had no medical care except for voices and images on screens, because it was too dangerous.
When the plague befell the poor, they had to stay away from the rich so that they would not endanger the beautiful people. It was dangerous for the poor people too, but what could be done, they suffer always, and must accept some loss, because, when you are poor, life is cheap.
It seemed as if the scourge would never end. Where was the Divine Mother? She went to each land, and where people sheltered in their cottages, and acted honorably towards Her beloveds, She relieved the people slowly from the worst of the disease. There was still loss. The dead had to be mourned, and many precautions were still necessary, but She sowed love in the hearts of Her children, and they turned to those who were left, grateful for community, happy to see that there were still beautiful things in the world to cherish, and, if they took great care, and did not dishonor the Great Womb which nurtured them all, life could flourish once more.
But where the most downtrodden, Her beloveds, were despised, and thrown aside like unwanted memories, the plague did not lift. People looked at the lists of the dead, and they said Why, it is only the very old, and the very sick, and the very lame, and the feeble minded, and the races and tribes and castes whom we despise who are dying. So I need not fear. And they lived as they wanted. The Mother saw into the hearts of Her children, and She cried at the arid landscapes She saw in them. So She dwelled with the downtrodden, and left the others to look to their own, because sometimes, children do not heed their parents, and the Goddess does not punish harshly, but works Her magic only when Her children are ready to receive it. The plague leaped like wildfires in dry lands, racing from one settlement to the next, taking with it even those who had expected to live for many more years.
Then the majority of the people understood the weight of the crisis, and some said Our Mother has forsaken us. And they were not entirely wrong, for it was human action that had led to Her terrible wounds.
And some said If we must live in this new world of sorrow, let us resume our songs and festivals and feasts, and let us not heed the naysayers who are cowardly, and stay in their homes, avoiding the few joys left to us. And they were not entirely wrong, for they had put aside the connectedness of all beings and found that, viewed through a distorted lens, it was still possible to call that life.
But some said Our Mother has given us the great gifts of science and healing. Let us trust that knowledge and use it to mitigate the plague from our world. And they were the closest to being wise, for She had indeed given these treasures to Her offspring, and expected them to use them to bring benevolence to the life that is divine in all of us.
But one thing was missing, which was the heart of all things.
And that was the downtrodden. The Mother’s beloveds. The people who remembered came out of the safety of their homes and they walked like a great ocean all across the land, bringing down the false gods, and chanting the names of these beloveds. The evil ones met them with great anger, and used awful weapons and the worst laws of the land to crush them. Who but the Divine has ever stopped the ocean? It cannot be, and so the great currents of justice flowed on, building to a torrent, and refusing the tyrants’ call to self interest.
The Mother’s heart was ever listening for the longing in Her children’s hearts. She saw that once again amongst Her children, there walked those who were made of both fire and water, who were willing to put their bodies and wisdom in front of tyranny, shielding the precious ones. And She spoke Her blessing:
“Enough. Let all act responsibly towards my Cherished Ones, and the plague will ease from the Earth.”
Ever after, the ones who mourned that the Mother had forsaken them, and the ones who had not heeded the proofs of science would revere the blessings of the downtrodden, and fear their curses, for it was said the wretched have nothing to lose, so they speak with their whole hearts.
But the people who made the ocean knew that these were untrue beliefs. For there are no wretched beings at all. It is only we who differentiate, and those whom society has failed to raise to great heights of honor have already seen their glorious reflections in the eyes of our Mother.
The cruel ones do not acknowledge the Queen who birthed us all, and it is impossible for their hearts to honor those they see as dust beneath their feet. Thus, the plague has not eased, and we are not free. Not until all of us are free.