Faith fuels my matriarchy, where it confused my motherhood. I am almost sixty. Having lived through the silence of my mothers and the sins of our fathers, I am no longer willing to be silent as I carry anyone else's sins. I bow under the burden of the secrets that I've already heard, not because I offered but because no one else would lend and ear. I now speak out against all the evils that I have come to know.
We have been living under a set of lies, perpetrated by those who did not live what they preached, but sought to set us on paths away from their own perdition. "Don't do as I did," they say. Unless we check their advice against the wisdom of the ages, there's little chance that we should believe that they profess a proper new way.
All animals learn by example, and we are animals before being infused with our souls. Even then, we are helpless to survive outside the good graces of our community of origin. Isn't it wonderful to live in a democracy where we are free to begin again?
I will follow only those who walk the walk, for it is only in seeing the fruit that I will judge a tree.
I will profess only those beliefs that I've seen in action, for many generations preceding me.
I will warn others of the evils of which I've been warned, hoping to help others to avoid the millstone's noose.
I will admit the problems that I've caused myself and others, so that the sins of my mothers and fathers may finally be set loose.
I will seek to balance the weaknesses of being human with the strengths of others in relationships.
I will offer to salve the wounds of those bloodied in the battles, and to relieve revenge bit by bit.