The Birth of Juniper (Between Breath & Suffocation Sec. 1)

I am Juniper: A sprawling evergreen with needle-like leaves and blue-colored berries sprinkled along spiky scales. An autumn bloom symbolic of life, my twiggy frame flourishing.
How did I get this name?
For seven months (during her brief break from anti-psychotics), my mother celebrated the juniper tree, claiming a bond with two tiny, mysterious men who lived on its slippery blades, whose commands she had no choice but to obey. She took one look at me, my body still covered in amniotic fluid, and declared, “Her name is Juniper. She is life and she is health.” She rubbed her thumb between my eyes in soft, short strokes. An endearing moment between mother and child. Love in its purest form. Unmeasurable. Unrestrained.
Unfortunately the story doesn’t end here. And there’s no way to detach it from what happened next…
Her body stiffened, her movements ritualistic, scary. Faster strokes, deeper, deeper: much too forceful for a newborn skull. My small cries filled the air, her hands now around my neck. Sebastian and Margolis, tiny but controlling, insisting that I must be sacrificed; after all, I belonged to them, birthed from pollen and soil, infused with nature’s pulse. Nothing more than an elaborately woven mass of wild foliage. The place where innocence and delusion meet, partners in a dangerous dance where each destroys the other…

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One Response to The Birth of Juniper (Between Breath & Suffocation Sec. 1)

  1. Glenda Cummings says:

    Oooooooh, good.


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