Death of the Potential Woman

Eve is the heroine of this story. She is the archetype of all heroes and heroines that followed. She is the first mother of Earth . . . before Hera, before Isis, before Demeter, before Mary mother of Jesus.

God, with his own almighty hands, took a rib from Adam, built up around that rib with clay from the flesh of Gaia and breathed the life of the Holy Spirit into her being. God created woman for man, so that man would not be alone. He did create woman for man to


The exact year remains foggy in my mind. Perhaps it was 2000. Almost ancient history. Too many years ago (and recorded haphazardly) to remember everything precisely. But, one would think I would remember the exact year I revolted; the exact year I executed the coup; the exact day and year the Lindy Revolution began . . . against the woman in the mirror . . . the Potential Woman.

Made of clay by his hands; the hands of Prometheus, he molded me, smooshed me up, rolled me into a ball, re-molded me, filling in the cracks left by the overworking of his hands, and the hands that worked me over in the past. He kept it up until he thought he got it right. Originally, it took God on try, but him, believing he was a god, thought he could do a better job, but he forgot the most important part . . . the breath of life . . . the spirit.

I became his Eve - his woman - his fruit . . . his Frankenstein.