A Prayer

Lilith, mother of abortions, I know your wrath is patient, and you see the curvature of time in a way that I do not.

You come to me deathful and decayed quite often, these days. Ominous in a way I have rarely experienced you before the last year or two. Sometimes it is a challenge to my nerve just to look upon you, even for as long as I have gazed into your Abyss.

I don’t know what you are seeing that I am not — that we are not, as women in this world.

I won’t pretend to understand that.

But I ask for you to please tend the souls of women in these dark times — whatever that means, and whether I understand it or not. I release my judgements on your mercy.

I know you are here. I feel you everywhere. Even those oblivious to the world around them seem to feel you, now. The void looms inescapably, and rides on the tip of everyone’s tongues. You are more present, more ubiquitous, more vicious than I have ever seen you in my life.

But I know your wrath is patient, and your sword is kind. I know that, whatever happens, the arbitration of death remains your domain, and ours.

Please accept the forgotten women of this world in your arms.

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