October 29, 1987Dear Amy (on the dark porch thrusting up your sleeves):I am writing to bring you your name. Fifteen years old, you know the letters, but all your life is left for you to learn its meaning if you don’t leave this early. You can find my name in novels and sacred texts, printed in encyclopedias and etched on stone: Atalanta, Saraswati, Ix Chel, Seshat, Cerridwen. My gifts are distinct and thus my names — Guanyin, Olwen, Maat, Saraswati, Sophia. I take many shapes so some call me Hecate, Kali, Hestia, Branwen. I have many tasks and so, many names: Freyja, Innana, Hathor. I […]
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