My Name Is Saved

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Mama says I am not a boy and am not a girl. She says, ‘Saved, you are a gift from God and you are my child.’ Then mama hugs me tight to her soft contours as if she wishes to mold me to her. Mama doesn’t understand; she doesn’t see the way others sneak a snicker, or announce a whisper. No, Mama doesn’t understand, God forgot to make me usual.

Long vines hang from trees that rise to the yellow sky. Water trickles along the cracks creating a sound of tranquil possibilities. Animals roam freely over the array of multicolored rock fields that make up the wilds of Garden Home.

Sitting on a large rock I watch the water crash into the power wheel below. It spins and the twelve stone houses and the small village along the river bank become alive with electricity.

Fields of flowers followed by large mountains separate the three villages. Each village is responsible for harvesting specific grains and vegetables that grow in the walls of the darkest corners. On this morning the people I see arriving from over the rock formation do not come for trade, not today, families arrive for the marriage ceremonies and celebrations of all eighteen year olds.

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