Another old work of which I'm quite fond...
1. The Pit of a Peach
One can't say it's the most exciting life, being the pit of the peach. In fact, to anyone who's been on the "outside" I'm sure it would be quite boring. I've always led this sheltered life though; so I don't have anything to compare. What I do know is that I am no longer with the Great Mother (I think once I heard her referred to as a "tree"). I think it was one of he Mouths that said that. Perhaps the Mouth was the one who took me from the Great Mother. Truly I'm not sure, but that's what I've heard happens.
Oh! I hear a noise! Could it be time to meet the Bright One?
Something is breaking the flesh of the peach around me! Is it the Mouth? Has the glorious and righteous Mouth started my journey? Oh! I must hope to the Bright One my shell is ripe and sweet enough to eat the whole way through! Oh!
I can see it! There's the mouth! It has come to free me from the peach! The light is so beautiful! White, pure effulgent white. Oh, Holy Bright One, be praised! If I had eyes tears of joy would surely be running down my rutted face. If I had a mouth I would smile so widely I would split into two pieces.
It's so cold, suddenly, without my peach surrounding me. What is the mouth doing? No! It's taking me from the Bright One and placing me into the dirt! What have I done to deserve this burial? Bright One! What?
I have a splitting ache in my top suddenly. Something is happening...happening to me...oh! Something is coming out of my top! Am I a rotten seed dying? Have I done something wrong? I have always been pious. Why? OH! Glorious Bright One, can it be happening? Am I - a little peach pit - to believe that I am the Great Mother? Oh Bright One...I am the Mother!
2. The Apple Stem
Hang on. Hang on. Hang on. Don't let the child fall. The blossom told me I must hang onto the child. Don't let it get lost. The blossom begged me as she leaned against me in her old, withered form. I remember when the blossom was beautiful and sweet-smelling. It was before the bees came. I miss her sometimes, but when I think about her I think about my responsibility to the child.
Hang on. Hang on. Hang on. I urge the child to cling to me as I cling to it. The child is so heavy now, but I won't let it go. The child is beautiful too. The child is red and smells sweet like its mother did. It has two friends who stay with it constantly. They are beautiful as well, green and light to hold. I don't mind them if they keep the child happy. The blossom asked me to keep the child happy.
Hang on. Hang on. Hang - stop! Stop pulling! An unseen force has taken the child and is tugging at it. The child is unsure, but it clings to me like I asked it to. I remind it of its mother to comfort it. Now its friends are scared too. I concentrate all my efforts to holding on. I cannot lose the child. I promised.
Hang on. Hang on. Hang on. I can feel myself beginning to give under the pressure. I'm frightened now, but I don't let the child and its friends know. I just keep holding on with all my might. The strange force pulls harder. I hold on as long and hard as I can, and a jerk, a snap! I've broken completely in half! I've kept the child, but I've lost myself. I've done my best to obey the blossom's wishes, but I can't continue. I make sure the child thinks it will remain safe and I am glad for its two friends.
I hung on. I hung on. I hung on and I did my best for my friend. Now I shall join her.
3. The Orange Peel
My child is within my body. The child is round and soft and it takes all of me to cover it. I keep the child warm and I protect it from threats that crawl through the tree. The tree is full of expectant mothers. We all love our children dearly.
Warmth has suddenly surrounded me, something completely different than the sun. The calloused hand of a Man has taken me away from the other mothers. In fear, I wait. We have all heard the stories of Man and the atrocities he commits. The palm of the Man's hand is large, and strangely flexible branch-like fingers reach out from the hand. The hand holds me securely for a moment, but the drops me.
I land in a box of other expectant mothers. The mothers underneath me are bruised from the landing. They tell me I am lucky to have landed so gently. This journey is not among the tales told by others. I wonder why all the mothers are being gathered, for what heinous act. I embrace my child as tightly as I can and feel the thud of other mothers landing around me, crying out in worry.
Warmth surrounds me again. The hand of the man begins scratching at me and I hold tightly to the child. The strong tips of the fingers dig into my skin painful, trying to reach for my child. I hug my child as tightly as I can, but I flake off in large, painful pieces. Juices squirt the hand of the Man as he breaks through my defenses and punctures my child.
I no longer hold the child. The hand of the Man has won despite my protest. The hand of the Man has discarded me and some other insignificant creature has found and started devouring my useless defenses as I'm left to mourn for my child in my few remaining minutes.