The Raised Fist
22. She was standing in New York harbour, an immense figure scraping the sky with her proud head, her tightly clenched fist raised high. It's the Statue of Liberty incarnate come down from her pedestal and stripped bare, wrote the American reporters. Her skin is black, her legs long and muscular, her nostrils flaring. She is on the march.
23. LIBERTY! cried the Euguelion, and she walked on the water, naked and black, her fist raised towards the New York sky. There is only one kind of suffering, only one, and there is nothing comparable to it, and that is not being free to decide one's own destiny! There is only one kind of happiness, and there is nothing comparable to it, only one that can touch the very fibres where life takes root in the self, and that is to be free, to be free, to be FREE!
24. She walked with a broad, rhythmic, springy step, opening up estuaries, widening coastlines. Her legs swung from the hip and not from the knee. The breadth of her strides flowed from her sex in motion, and exactly matched the length of her legs. Under this generous stride, all things liquid grew firm and all things rough and rocky grew soft.
25. In the midst of her legendary walk, she suddenly saw a huge dark blue ball rolling towards her. It stopped at her feet. She took the object and called it the promised land. She stretched out on her back, her left arm hugging the Earth against her left breast, its nipple erect; she also held it with her right hand, leaning on her right breast, its nipple no doubt erect too. In the centre of the Earth she saw a round pink furnace, and hanging over the furnace, a bit to the East, a pale yellow sun, round as an egg yolk. Half the furnace was slightly pigmented by the Earth, and half the sun was slightly pigmented by the furnace, and the Earth itself was slightly pigmented by the dark skin of the Euguelion, who that morning was clothed in melanin.
26. And everything that the Euguelion's eyes saw was seen transparently as if through a microscope.
©Howard Scott 1996