masculinity is not patriarchy

he dropped my pearl into the depths

utterly lost, unretrievable

fallen away into fathomless waters

his unkindness cutting me deeper than my loss, cutting into my dimensions, forever parting us as he cackled with glee 

and so

I went to his quarters and took up his sword and walked the plank

looking deep into his eyes, I dropped it

the sword of his father's father's father

I loosed it into that abyss to fall forever after my pearl 

his eyes quickly leaving mine watched the sword fall from my hands and, widened luminous as the pearly moon above

he began to weep below

he wept

and he wailed and he mourned

and each breath between grieving I reminded him with stinging condolences; 

I know, baby, I know, that's how I feel about my pearl.

That's how I feel about my pearl.

after he'd filled the ocean with his tears and had nothing left to give her

he looked at me

and he said

we can get it back, your pearl

no we can't, baby; nothing can reach that deep, that far into the hidden

but he insisted - yes Eve, we can. Let's create tools from bits of this ship and we can retrieve your pearl

yes ok, I said

and then maybe, we will find your sword there too

bamboo is strong, bamboo is light - we can make tools from these planks

so together we worked, for many days and many nights we crafted our tools and then we dove deep and when we did, we found the pearl

and the light in his eyes lit a thousand stars above us into a thousand luminous worlds as the clouds moved away from the moon

and next to my pearl, we found his sword.

I wrote this poem after a day with my fairy god baby of four years old, when he took my pearl out of a shell in my plant and threw it into the cracks of the deck, utterly unretrievable. So being a good fairy god mother, I promptly threw his toy vehicle after it into the cracks and broke that little boy's heart. We were quite a sight for a good fifteen minutes of sorrowful mourning, and as we watched one another suffer, our retaliation became compassion, and we responded to each other with mutual assistance at his idea to craft tools out of bamboo sticks and retrieve our precious items, which to my great surprise, we achieved.

I love the way ships elegantly embody the masculine's voyage into the feminine, an evocative manifestation of our polarities into the material plane, raw crafted earth carrying man unretrievable into uncharted, infinite ocean.  The masculine procures raw materials of the living earth and wields it into tools - like ships - to know her better, to explore her essential nature in ways that are kind and curious and also in ways deadly cruel. The overgrowth of this essential human drive, plagues our world with material insanity and actual collective suicide, yet our primal human nature can never be undone.

We seek to understand it.

These dire straights we stand now on the brink of, rise from the masculine's unquenched thirst to know the feminine, to penetrate her depths, to fall so headlong into mystery that recovery is no longer an option, no longer a word in the vocabulary. In this place, vocabulary does not exist at all.

Let us ask new questions of ourselves:

Why is the masculine's thirst unquenched?

How can the feminine examine our contribution to imbalance?

Why does our culture demonize mystery?

How can we offer mystery back to each other in such times? 

Will we forever blame the other and let our ship fall headlong into the abyss while we quarrel, or will we unite? 

Who is going to go first?

Masculinity is not Patriarchy, and is as much of a cure as Femininity.

love, Eve.

PS (this series is painted with berries from the vibrant pink and poisonous Poke plant - do try this at home)

Eve Star