The Last Mermaid

~ 93 ~

A maiden burgeoning at the seams. She wears a long, milky white gown. She walks down the beach, large breasts cushioning her fragile heart.

She knows that it was like when the Moon Goddess had to restore harmony to the universe. It was another lifetime ago, but she remembers the pristine-ness of the moon temples. She was an empress in those days, being appreciated for her divine heart. She knew what true love was like, and it held her in return - recognizing her true feminine nature.

They used to worship me. To gape upon my breasts full of milk. My long hair caressed my curves as wide as a watermelon belly. My womb sat ad a center of sexuality and rebirth. Those were the days that women were revered as mystics, and periods as events to be celebrated rather than looked down upon in disgust.

It's a lonely feeling being a mother to all. I'm filled with desire, spurned on by my followers desire to return to a world that makes sense. They sacrifice themselves to the womb that sucks them back into their center.

I had to come face to face with losing everything - to realize the value in fighting for my lost temples. Only by dealing with obscurity and earn of your womb can your spirit be born twice as stronger than before.

I had to remember that I am a goddess

This meant taking caring of myself when I felt less than worthy of love

Starting with learning to trust my judgement when it came to my stomach. Poke bowls full of crab, salmon, seaweed, tempura flakes, pineapple, ginger, and whatever else feels good in my stomach

I learned that I do not have to sacrifice myself as a martyr to get the love I desire - sharing my body, consuming would be lovers, being left constantly lonely. I would keep lovers. I could have only specific ones, and I didn't have to eat them at all.

I remember the first time - another stranger drawn to my bed, but this one did not bow down to my needs. He instead held me, then lay beside me asking "How long have you been alone?"

I moved to the ocean, as I felt the headache ease as I got near to the after. I stare back in disgust at the telephone lines littering the land. I choose instead to get up at the dawn of the day to walk the beach, and go out at night to feel the cold night air as I stare at the stars.

Finally, from many hours on the beach, I finally become what I desire to be - a human woman.

I laugh in delight - no longer feeling beautiful nor magical. I feel completely normal.

I cry long, human tears. I feel flooded with so many emotions that the sea could open itself within my room.

I allow myself to cry for days, alternating between hilarity and extreme sadness. Finding myself screaming on the beach.

The angels above are heard whispering among themselves.

"She's overwhelmed being caught in the humans' 3D world."

"We cannot allow her to cry forever. Someone will notice that she's not human."

They determined, however, that I could not go back to being a hungry goddess. Each year, my old lovers would come by one by one through my womb to the orphanages.

This went on for 15 years - my breasts oozing with milk, hips wide, feeling like a milkmaid. My reputation precedes me wherever I go with people whispering "How could a woman be that selfish to take so many lovers? They all come in different shades and from everywhere. It's as if they are under her spell."

Even after the babies stopped and I lose my urge, I still feel intense isolation and loneliness within myself.

"You have everything you need within yourself" whisper the faeries.

"But why do I dream of finding a great love?"

"Because that love is needed to be found within yourself. Only when you go inside yourself can you find the love that is needed."

I give up my fears at the beach - meditating on the midnight's roaring black waters. I give my loneliness up to the moon. It's light filters down through the opening of my third eye.

I'm flooded with images of my divinity. The sky is now a mixture hue of rose quartz and aquamarine. Orbs of living fly through the sky, leaving a zig zagging trail of energy in their wake.

There is a purple palace ahead of me covered with designs of the moon. There are women dancing outside the palace, shaking tambourines, with their feet making loud stomping noises against the ground. They yip and cheer. I see my arms and ankles littered with silver jewels. My feet touch the surface of the moon; dust sparkles and dances in its wake. Unsure of what to do, I watch the women dance and twirl in celebration. Suddenly, one grabs my hand and I'm included into the dance. I laugh as I fly into the air, twirling above them - a moon goddess that finally finds her power and has returned home.