Original Poem: "Five Famines of the Feminine" 🌙

This is a poem written by my previously-Christian-self as she was grieving deeply the lack of Mother God and Goddess in her church, and the realization that there was complete permeation of patriarchy, harmful to women, throughout the church I once loved and deeply trusted.

9.28.23

© Elizabeth Langston, 2024

Five Famines of the Feminine 

I once walked the streets 

That Jesus did sweep

He was calling his disciples;

Calling for his sheep 

I followed where they walked,

And I heard what they did speak:

They said, “There’s twelve apostles”,

I said, “No, there are thirteen……”

First famine of the Feminine:

No Mary Magdalene.

—-

I went to church on Sunday,

I took the Sacrament.

I sat with all my babies, 

The Bible in my hand.

I opened to the pages 

Seeking God to lead, 

But all I found were verses

Subjugating me:

“Let woman keep silent in church,

she is not permitted to speak” 

Good old first Corinthians,

chapter fourteen.

Next famine of the feminine:

Unchecked Patriarchy. 

——

They told me to believe 

That Adam did make Eve,

when all humans on earth 

Woman did conceive…

I thought they could not lie,

Until the Voice Inside 

Told me that their story 

Was unjust gendercide. 

Third famine of the feminine:

Denying women their power of creation. 

——

They told me I had choices, 

They told me I was free. 

They said my final judgement 

Was tween’ God and Me. 

But then they have inserted 

Men and authority 

In place of my own conscience 

And my Sovereignty. 

Fourth famine of the feminine: 

Line of Authority. 

——

They say there is a Mother

In Heaven; that she’s true.

But when we speak about her,

They hush us at the pew.

They say she is too sacred;

To pure to speak her name—

I say that I am starving

In this drought of Feminine.  

——

This daughter wants her Mother 

Included in the prayer 

This daughter wants her Mother 

Represented fair. 

I don’t want to have to piece Her 

Like a puzzled game of Clue!

I want to Speak about her 

Like men their Father do. 

The problem with this famine 

of the Feminine Divine 

Is that women have to leave

parts of themselves behind. 

How can they be expressed 

As only women can,

When the only God that’s spoken 

Is one that is a Man?

This buries parts of women, 

it buries them alive. 

Don’t ask us to abandon

The feminine inside. 

How can I, as a woman,

How can I choose to stay 

When as I am here staying, 

I give parts of me away?

© Elizabeth Langston, 2024

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