A Creation Story by Sarah Asia

When decades later, the boy returned to his Motherland, he no longer recognized his blood.

She first materialized into the Universe as the Black Scarab.

When she gave birth to the Sun, he suckled just as expected and all seemed swell.

But when growing time came, it was apparent something was amiss.

Weeks passed and now months and then years, and that boy’s color never came in like the rest.

Curious was he, craving to touch the world, when he came to her begging, the Mother sent him off with milk and gold pounds, in heavy heart and understanding.

When decades later, the boy returned to his Motherland, he no longer recognized his blood. His brothers, his sisters, even his own Mother looked foreign to him and he hadn’t the slightest recollect of felling from this womb.

His Mother kissed him with tears in her eyes, her breasts still leaking for his cries. 

She had not forgotten her son. 

But he, in his new life, his new way, no longer shared his Mother’s tongue and instead of embracing her, he straddled her and delicately collected the milk dripping from her swollen chest into a shiny silver canteen. 

When he returned to his foreign land, he shared his milk of Mother and the people loved it. They wanted more. They demanded more. 

So the boy went back to the Motherland and harvested the essence of every man, his brothers and his sisters all lined up in chains alike. He sucked them of their spiritsoul and left them to fester in the sun, coveting the milk to fatten the people of a new land. 

Such is how our world was built, on suckling boys and wilted Mothers. And of One, two societies became: one for the children, pale and bright among the snow, and one for the parents, harvested and discarded, drained of their milk and gold.

What may come when, generations later, these two worlds collide inside someone? Inside me . . . 

 

[Featured Art by Kayla, 8years old]

MORE ABOUT SARAH ASIA

My creative nature is not restricted to “making” art. I live and breathe as an Artist, see as the Artist sees, and weave my personal, professional, and creative life just as I please, in true Artist form. I live to sip inspiration and hunger to feed it.

I am a Creature of the Night, a consort of Nut and liaison of the Stars and the Trees. Luna breathes through my Blood that I may remember the secrets of the Mother from my Bones and whisper them across the winds like dandelion seeds for NTR to gestate at Her whim to bloom within the wombs of my Sisters.

I am We.

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