from whom seven demons had gone out

for six demons, and for seven, my lips will never be silent

the first is surely the possession of a womb

            that reminds one too much that the original watery abyss

            was nothing other than God’s womb

            through which God drew forth life

            wet and screaming

            into its good – no, very good – imperfection

                        until earth itself became the womb for God

                        compressed into the uterus of a teenage mom

                        not too small a place yet too big a task      

                                    for a woman –

                                    yet there she was, round with kicking child,

                                                who etched the words “God was here” on her insides

the second and third demons are surely the breasts

            the former the promise of a land flowing with milk and honey

            that nourished our own ungratefulness as we became

            self-assured, confident in our own gods

                        the latter the nurse-mother Paul, who for a moment

                        forgot that masculinity was the key

the fourth is the mind

            that refuses to be bound by convention

            as judges of Israel, waging war on all that is unholy,

                        until their fathers required their lives because of a vow

            as she said it didn’t matter who called her bitch or cunt or whore,

                        her name “beloved of God” mattered more

            as she stood with the command “Go and tell,”

            as she preached in Rome

            as she told the executioners she would defeat them in her life

and in her death all the more

the fifth are the hands

            smooth and soft

            gnarled and worn

            that taught, baptized, and healed

                        unsung throughout history, despite the promise that the story would be told

                                    in remembrance of Her

the sixth is the kitchen

            which was not the better part

            yet women were told they could not be part of the better part

                        for the better part of history

locked in the kitchens, not allowed to follow, and simultaneously judged for their choice

the seventh is silence

            the message that will not, cannot, get out

            because society focuses on the seven demons

                        rather than the command to Mary, “Preach.”