Borne Fey Over Burnt Blanca

Borne Fey Over Burnt Blanca

     A marital spat erupts between the Aztec creator and creatrix of humankind. The male God banishes a mortal woman to Mictlán the Aztec purgatory for praying to the female embodiment of the divine. There she will walk barefoot across burning sand and rocks. But the creatrix can finesse the denouement into feminine favor with a defector from hubby’s very own brotherhood.
     Sand clouds flap-like angels wings across the dunes as the desert turns crimson. The blood of the virgin paints the sky. Her pain is buried deep in her heart. The Lord of Duality exiled her here to die where even her bones would dissolve into dust.
     He is a jealous God and she prayed to the Lady of Duality. The Goddess spoke to her a whisper in the night her voice carrying on the wind in Tayanna’s dreams. My name is woman she said. Hold no other God above me. Keep me close to your heart. Never ever deny me. I am your betrothed.
     Tayanna speaks these words to the priest of the temple dedicated to the God. Since the men stick together he immediately spills the bean to Quetzalcoatl the male given credit to creating humans. Though to Tayanna’s way of thinking this makes no sense because only a creatrix can give birth. If only she would renounce her and call the divinity by his male name Tayanna would be forgiven. But she could not obey.
     They come upon Tayanna in a phalanx forming a cul-de-sac to trap her in the canyon. Their rapacious rapiers are drawn to burn their truth into her until nothing is left but the sighing wind. Once her body is pillaged they will accuse her of having seduced them and thereby paint her as a woman of loose morals. Hence, her body will take the punishment of thirty lashes while they leer. The husk of her skin is ready to fade into the welted night of the whip master.
     Suddenly a miniature cyclone pulls Tayanna’s arms up and her sleeveless blouse off into the sky. The vortex suspends her with her feet dangling. The sash that secures her long wraparound skirt comes undone as though it was a ribbon with her the present. But a birthday gift must be unwrapped and the whirlwind unwinds her skirt until it flies off tumbling across the cracked earth and onto an updraft into cloud realms. Her heart pounds with the fear of a howler monkey treed by a prowl of jaguars. Is this a circus for the misogynist God she renounced?
     Stars emerge, scattered like seeds in the ocean of darkness. Tayanna’s mind settles into endless dreams. She appears shimmering in the purest white robe. Her face is more brilliant than the noon sun. She descends upon Tayanna like a flood of star fire. Her warmth spreads through Tayanna like a warm ocean current.  
     But with such love, as she created the earth, she recreates Tayanna’s arms into wings, and her coccyx blossoms into tail feathers to make her escape. Like a migratory bird, Tayanna’s inner compass guides her to a sunrise like on the day of creation.
     Tayanna is a black hawk with feathers fluttering who plunges into a grotto with a mirrored pool. She gazes at her reflection in the pool. She sees her sharp yellow beak, black aquiline head, and tiny yellow bird eyes. She looks up and is amazed at the sight. A raven-haired beauty with sapphire eyes stares at her. Tayanna scuttles to her and she reaches out to caress Tayanna’s silky head with her fingertips. She mutters words in a language from before time which Tayanna does not understand. Slowly Tayanna grows taller. Arms and hands sprout where wings were. Feet and toes sprout where there were talons. Breasts sprout from her chest and her nipples stand erect in the cool air.
     The woman speaks and suddenly Tayanna understands. She looks down at a pool and sees her reflection. Her form is human. She is a woman once more but this time with hair of spun wheat, sparkling hazel eyes, and a sensuously curved body, naked as at birth. Tayanna turns around and reaches out to touch the creamy soft skin of the strange woman’s cheeks. The woman strokes Tayanna’s hips and sides. She embraces her and gently caresses the soft skin of her back and buttocks. She tells Tayanna that we are all connected to the web of life. We are bird people, brothers, and sisters of the animals, plants, and rocks.
     “I have decided not to require my sisters to openly worship me. It is ok to give lip service to the male God. Pray silently to me. Your prayers will be heard as if you shouted them from the pyramids.”
     “Putting up with machismo is no longer tolerable whether from a human male or a God.”
     “But your man will want to know the secrets we women keep between each other in the bond of our sisterhood. Men are insatiably curious about what makes women tick. Don’t be so down on men. I would appreciate you honoring the Lord of Duality since he is the father of my children including you. You can practice here with devotionals to the Lord of Duality.”
     “That would be cheating on you.”
     “I am not possessive of you. If you flirt with him, he might teach your earthly lover how to give you a delicious body rub.”
     “Men like that are credits to their gender.”
     “You were banished to this desert to walk without shoes on the stony ground. The majority of the heavenly council is male go figure. And naturally, they all stuck together in this decision. But though I cannot overturn their ruling I can and will subvert it. Here is your husband to protect your bare feet by carrying you.”
     “Where is my husband? I don’t see him.”
     Suddenly flames leap out of the woman’s body consuming her and she melts. She leaves a glittering diamond lying on the sand. Tayanna carries her gem as the key to unlocking the female energy for the rebirth of green as the leafy currency of love songs.
     But a falcon perches in her path. Before her eyes the miracle repeats. His feathers separate into fingers and his beak turns into lips. His eyes widen into hazel marbles whose irises focus on Tayanna’s form to study her curves. With his wide angles and close-ups of her figure, his phallus sprouts from his fleece and thickens in the cool air. Tayanna’s navel spoons the tip of his plantain. “Hey, that is my ticklish zone.”
     Her fingers become the flint on his steel from which sparks fly and his speech is born. “Such strange sensations from your touch” are his first words. The prismatic gems of his heritage float in a liquid sunshine dream as seen in the sensual light of his eyes. His clothes fall from out of nowhere onto the ground. They chant like jackals in the night whose howls tell the story of life before glyphs.
     On the trail to Tayanna’s birthplace, the wilderness gets old, and her falcon man carries her up the arroyos, out of the shifting sands, and into a city pregnant with possibilities.
     Tayanna finds herself back in the capital of Tenochtitlán selling herbal potency concoctions to men. They sell like hotcakes but tragically her husband is more fascinated by an ancient religious codex than making love. That is until she slips some in his coffee and they wonder why they need doctrinal manuscripts with their homegrown religion of physicality.