Freedom At All Costs

Even should a mother forget but she cannot but even if she could God has sent His mother to hold the bloodied limbs in her arms just as she held God’s humanity in the folds of her dress when all had been done. Her altar of flesh prepared His Body to rise. She is there, too, in the darkened room where millions of mothers are crying or trying to forget or feeling the weight of life left, gone—regretful or not, God’s Mother is there just the same piecing together the most bewildering puzzle— Why? She cries and remembers the nails the spear the sword, the pressure the fear the force all for dismemberment. But it is not the end. Holding severed flesh on her lap in the folds of her dress she prepares her children to rise. But what comes before is freedom’s forgotten side, the hidden part the place we’re not allowed to see or think about too long. What would it be like if our minds could comprehend the choice placed in our lives— the tiny seed we could nourish or not? What would it be like if we really understood this freedom to accept or not: Everyone! Pro-life, pro-choice, nonaligned! What would it be like if we all understood the freedom that we have every second of the day to build or destroy to speak or be silent to accept or reject to say “I” in the face of given-ness. What choice do we make? Or do we simply not choose, let others decide the fate of our own flesh and blood and “I” Will we say: I didn’t really want to, but…? Killed our own selves abandoned our will left it to die alone on the side of the road. Our own self dismembered acting against its soul. But God’s image will not be erased though the dismembered member of the human race is killed by its own. Maternity waits and holds our freedom in the folds of her dress. The choice has been made. We can say “no” or “yes.” Rita A. Simmonds January 23, 2019