Obatala reflects upon Pelops

They built him again,
Not me. They built him again.
this time without any of the meaning.
and I regret my part in it.

I watched the bone as they shaped it on the lathe,
varnished it with tree-sap and the clitoral fluids of the goddesses,
and then brought it to me to bring to life.

(You see the Hebrew Golem recipe was almost right-- but they had the key mechanism all backwards. It is only by smearing God's name that the Golem can come alive. It was the Shaman-Rabbi's meticulous, rigorous execution of the forbidden script that kept the clay-man clay.)

I looked at the bone,
my, my, my--
It was dustless, radiant, brittle --it made the sweetest melancholy B-flat when I rapped my great white fingernail against it.

It was this that I was to bring to life. The rest of him, having already died, could be no more than extensions of this little shoulder blade and its will.

What misfortune could I pour into it? It was too bright, too beautiful. I didn't want to do it. I didn't. I was sick with shame that this too I should have to piss, shit, and barf life into.

But they looked at me sternly --they couldn't understand, of course, only being given the glorious tasks.

So I placed it between my teeth and brought it to life with the smallest nibble I could manage. And then it struck me that the rest of him was already so mutilated that it would seem incongruous-- so I bit in hard and deep-- hoping to bite deep enough to make him mad, and thus spare him the humiliation of having to cope with a shoulder blade of such dignity and exquisite grace.

Well he certainly was queer. If he was mad... of that I am uncertain. But he was queer. He sort of smiled a sad smile, and said that he quite enjoyed being born. And I asked him if he knew who he was, and he said yes quietly. And then I asked him if he knew who his father was-- and his face darkened considerably and he walked away.

Don't worry about me.

I'm used to the disregard and neglect. Nobody ever really wants to be created, when it comes down to it... they just want to be imagined, that's all.