#my moms a bitter ashamed woman and im trying to let go of that shame so i can feel free

[mobsterqueer]

A whale, the infinite leviathan, it's maw a cornucopia for the fleshy worms and sharks that wriggle across the abyssal ocean floor. She sings to me, her bones withering back into the deep sediment, her atoms vibrate against mine as I touch her skeleton. The sunlight cannot reach here, but little creatures glow and glitter in the depths.

This is the mother of creation, of life. I feel like a grain of sand under her eyeless gaze, and I feel the tug in my gut that tells me that I am her calf. She made me as miraculous as I am, incubating me in her womb. She made life from the primordial ooze, and laid down the foundations of my existence ever so lovingly, with a tenderness I couldn't grasp. It's overwhelming.

My own mother rejected me in life. I was a creature of ugliness to her eyes, so she averted them, and shame digs her grave even now. Shame etched itself into me too, across my bones, into the marrow. My mother started the cracks herself. So the love I feel pouring from the carcass is insurmountable. I cry, and now I know why the ocean is saltwater.

I am surprised when she speaks to me next. Her voice is a song that's familiar and warm, as old as time. "Yes, love, there is much suffering in this life. But I never made you to suffer."

I furrow my brows, confused. She continues.

"I made you because you are miraculous. Your life is short, but as vibrant and as vast as anything. Do you know why?"

I shake my head.

"It is because I pour into you my love. When the sunlight touches your skin, when you curl up under the blankets with a lover, when your joy is full to bursting... that is my love for you, little one. You are, by your own existence, a redical act against the unending universe."

"But why? We are such small little things. Why love any of us? We dont matter."

Her chuckle vibrates the tectonic plates, and heat rises, giving birth to deep sea vents. They curl upward in towers that creatures huddle against for warmth. The glow illuminates her in a yellow light. It feels like the sun's rays on my skin.

"Oh, little one. Haven't you seen it yourself?"

I recall the things that bring me joy. Coffee. Little fat birds. Sunlight. Summer evenings. My partner.

The little things.