Mitochondria

She knows you. Passed down through a line of mothers, quietly waiting in dazzling multitudes inside her eggs. That feminine love that is ancient, sticky and wet, a string through time. Enclosed by membranes, a curvaceous shapeshifter between life, death and the other place, she gives energy to every cell she inhabits. The folds of her insides, soft, curled like lips, throat, labia, petals. She holds. She swims. Water, from molecules to vast stretches of liquid. Where two hydrogen atoms bond with oxygen to form this essential molecule we wash with, drink, create life with. She makes water after the membranes with all those curves undergo a gradient creation of hydrogen ions. Here water becomes the waste product, the by-product, a process complete, energy generated and an opportunity for more life.

She is communitas, she is creation, a force so strong it cuts across genders, animal, land, mycelium and sea, where the deepest part of you meets the deepest part of me.