Your Personal Mythology
when i was eight, i bet my older sister twelve dollars
(otherwise known, at that moment in my existence,
as my entire life savings)
that god was a woman.
any member of an abrahamic religion
will know the way this story ends.
that was the day i lost my entire life savings.
and thank god,
for god the father
and for god the son
and for god the holy spirit.
honestly, thank god for all three of ‘em.
and it’s not like i’m trying to start a theological debate.
but like, my god
is the prettiest lady you’ve ever seen.
she’s got the kind of skin that’s seen things.
it’s weathered and brown and crinkles around the eyes.
and it’s soft to the touch.
i mean, my god
has the longest hair,
thick and silvery and always tied into a braid.
she weaves wildflowers at the crown of her head,
the kind that don’t have names.
cried when her son was born of flesh,
and screamed when he was hung on that cross.
she thought her heart was going to explode
straight out of her chest.
is the kind of mom
who bakes chocolate chip cookies
for everyone in the class
and knows each kid’s allergy
without even asking.
is an artist
and a doctor
and an environmentalist
and she saves the day, everyday.
has the prettiest hands.
has the warmest eyes.
gives the greatest hugs.
loves each and everyone of us.
so i still go to church.
but i’m not praying to any fathers.
that’s god the mother up there,
and i’m reciting the our mother
every damn sunday.
she’ll forgive us our trespasses
and invite us back for thanksgiving.
there’s plenty to spare.
By Bela Sánchez
bela is a sixteen-year-old girl who feels passionately about tenderness and softening her edges. she attends a high school where talented and gifted students cheat on their homework and set things on fire, and has recently taught herself how to be a sunflower. she lives in dallas, texas with two dogs, a large family, and as many friends as she can dream up. she is always eating too much arroz con leche.