A cavewoman stands, knees bent, plump baby boy in the crook of her left arm
Clothed in the brown furs of wolves she herself slaughtered Long brown hair hanging down across dirt-smudged face, onto baby Right hand clenched around torch afire There it is just across the way the big ugly Staring from the outskirts of camp the dangerous terrible Set to devour, it hungrily eyes the baby Cavewoman grips that baby close to her milk-wet breasts Bares her teeth the fangs of the sabertooth Braces her stance muscles throb and flex It advances flinches toward the one it wants Guttoral groans emerge from the back of her throat She jabs her flaming stick at it A primeval shriek of terror leaps out of her at it “He is mine. Get back!” She fights back ferociously with fire heart beating wildly as she repeatedly burns it dead The big ugly the dangerous terrible lies still She trembles and sits, baby boy safe in the crook of her left arm Milk-wet breast out she suckles him Both are calm
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Valerie GeerWriter. Women's activist. Theologian. Providing authentic reflections from a female perspective. Archives
March 2016
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