I stand at the kitchen door wondering how I will say what is happening to me. I think that they should be able to see on my face that everything has changed. My aunt sees me and stops talking. I’ve brought with me a flock of unspoken questions. The air is full of their beating wings. I focus and draw breath. “I think I’ve started my period.” The wings pause. Aunty Jean squeals and claps her hands. Mom holds me and whispers, “How do you feel?”

❀

Gabriel hadn’t come to seek permission, but that is what he got. He begins with the fulsome greeting they had agreed, followed by the usual reassurances. Yet he detects beneath her flurry of anxiety, a ruffle of curiosity and strength, and deep within her a clear light grow stronger — a light he recognises from home.

She hears the impossible being explained. But, she knows, a seed is required. Remembering that Yahweh has spoken everything into being, she gives her yes.

❀

Years of grabbing, drawing pain, hot water bottles and painkillers. Inconvenient surprises and embarrassing stains. Now a hoped for, welcome, pause that signifies another change. A tenuous hold has begun. Microscopic divisions, multiplications report busily, compelling subtle changes, barely registered but persistently underway. A relentless focus on hosting this new being.

❀

She stands at the cross. Remembers the searing heat of her delicate flesh tearing. The unstoppable force of the life within her bearing down. The urgency. The whiteness of the pain. Waters breaking. Blood. Oceans of love.

The wet spear is pulled from his side. Water. Blood. Love.

And the cosmos is reborn.