“In the place Calliope had bled, a trail of corn sprouted behind her. She picked the two tallest corn shoots then sat beside two large, smooth stone metates for grinding. From within her husk rebozo, she pulled a mano, shucked the corn, laid it on the altar, and with the mano in both hands, she began moving with the weight of her whole body, the strength of her shoulders and back pressing down through her arms, back and forth, shearing, until the corn became a fine yellow powder. The Ancients sang her on as she worked. When the Earth has had enough, she will shake her troubles off. She will shake her troublemakers off. She scooped this and mashed it into the butter of her hands. Rolled it into a ball, flattened it again. Shaped and shaped until the corn grew into a child, who sprang from the stone of her hands, laughing. For she was finished, and sank into the earth, solid, hardened, at peace. And as her corn-made child ran from the mound to the grass below, the spirits intoned. The Earth has all the power she needs. When she decides to use her power, you will know.” MythologyMagical RealismDystopian FictionLatinx LiteratureApocalyptic FictionIndigenous LiteratureSouthwestern American CultureCreation Story Book:Trinity Sight Source: Trinity Sight
“No one knows much about this little man Se'ehe these days, but they used to say that he created the earth and everything on it. Nobody worshipped him. They only spoke of him having strange powers. [page 103, Eagleman]” GodMagicCreatorArizonaMagickSouthwestGilaPimaO OdhamCreation Story Book:A Pima Remembers Source: A Pima Remembers