Prayer to the Divine Feminine

Beloved mothers of Humanity …
We thank you for watching over us and
for nourishing our souls with kindness and mercy …Mary Queen of Heaven

Thank you for showing us ways that lead to the
You are Mystic Roses of the world’s gardens;
You are precious waters cooling the deserts.
Your presence purifies everything.
You are the mothers who protect us,
who help us to heal the wounds and scarsHindu Goddess
this false world brings to us.
Thank you, Divine Mothers, for the ancient wisdom and
the clarity your love offers us.
Ladies of Peace,

Ladies of Meditation and Prayer,
Mothers of this world and the one beyond,
grant us grace, peace, the willingness to forgive.
Ladies of the Rainbow, of the Angels, of the Lotus,
shine on us the rays of the Creator’s love that we
might warm this frigid world.
Spread over us the Divine Cloak of your endless love.
Calm us that we may calm the fearful.
Warm us that we may warm those who are cold.
Feed us that we may feed the hungry.
Forgive us that we may forgive all humankind.
Jewels of Heaven, continue to love us though
we rarely deserve it. Show us humanity through Muslim female saint
your eyes. Continue, please, to plead
for us, to place our vulnerable souls and our
human needs before the Creator.

Shanti.   Amen.   Amin.  
Om Mane Padme Hum.   Hallelujah.


I first read “Let Us Now Praise Famous Men” when I was just out of high school.  My father was an ardent Socialist, Union Organizer, free thinker, blue collar philosopher, lover of “real people,” etc.  You get the picture.

I browsed the public library then as if it were a buffet table and I was starving.  It was not unusual for me to be in there from opening to closing.  My parents never had to worry about my whereabouts.  The library is where I could always be found. After library hours, I was in my room, reading.
I found the book by chance, sat down at a table and began to read.  I checked that book out more times than anyone the library had ever seen.  I bought it for myself, finally, when I was 20 years old and married.
What I saw in those pages was the assurance that no one, anywhere, understands anything until they’ve lived it.  Poverty, hunger, lack of education, lack of choices, abuse—all of it, any of it—it is not understood until it is experienced.
I learned from that book that my suspicions that my peers didn’t understand my life were well-founded.  My mother HAD to sew my clothes.  My father was often on strike, sometimes injured in picket lines, always worked like a slave in the steel mill for every cent and, only through the union were his efforts rewarded.
I learned in those pages that the government lies.  It lies to cover up its willingness to ignore the poor and uneducated.  It lies to keep the poverty-stricken poverty stricken and the uneducated uneducated.  It lies so that the general populace can feel good about itself.  It lies so that it can build its capitalist sties on the backs of working people and will hire writers and photographers to further those lies..

James Agee and Walker Evans were like my father. They refused to lie.

Those pages gave me pride in my own father’s work ethic, his truth, his unwillingness to ever be anything more or less than he was.  It made me ashamed to sit back and not try to help the impoverished.  It made me want to shake the world out of its drowsy complacency, wring its neck a little.
I could not, in those early years, think of what to do, so I began to write.  And that is still what I do. Besides the little money I can give, aside from the little help I can offer as an individual, I can write what I see.  So I do.
I have gone back to that book a hundred times.  No exaggeration. I’ve read it at least that many times.  It changes me with each reading. At this time of year especially, I urge anyone to buy this book, see what it does to you, to anyone who is fortunate enough to read it.