24 ICSA TODAY
One Head, Two Bodies: One body’s head has
been severed. She’s just a gross, Pepto-Bismol-
pink body trying to dance mindlessly over
the globe with her flesh deteriorating. She
has no beauty or grace or shame or brain at
all, but she seems oblivious. The other body
has a head, a gray- and brown-haired head
like mine, which is even encircled by a halo,
but it’s also detached from her body. Still,
no matter what, she’s determined to reach
out to the orange light glowing in the far
corner of space. Her motherly violet body is
more grounded to the earth than the floating
pink body. I drew the picture while feeling
particularly ugly, but I guess it means that,
with all my wounds, I’m determined to find
some ultimate meaning to my life.
Homage to My Unborn Children: My husband
and I were childless (we had one miscarriage)
in a church that demanded we be fruitful. Of
course I felt horribly guilty. Rev. Moon gave
awards to those couples who had seven
children or more (he had at least 13). Fruitful
couples with many children were urged to
conceive specifically in order to give a child to
a childless couple. At least four couples tried to
get pregnant for my husband and me, but their
pregnancies miscarried. I think this drawing,
with the three embryos and three cracked eggs,
relates to the embryos that never made it. The
three partridges seem faithful and stalwart,
like good members, but their eyes look rather
zombie-ish, and they appear distant from the
whole process of bearing the eggs. The pink
background reminds me of the inside of a
fallopian tube, and the two swollen objects on
either side are like ripe ova. At least there is a
bright sun shining on everything. It was better
my husband and I didn’t have children anyway.
He always said children underfoot would have
inflamed his violent side. Better that their spirits
incarnated somewhere else.
One Head, Two Bodies: One body’s head has
been severed. She’s just a gross, Pepto-Bismol-
pink body trying to dance mindlessly over
the globe with her flesh deteriorating. She
has no beauty or grace or shame or brain at
all, but she seems oblivious. The other body
has a head, a gray- and brown-haired head
like mine, which is even encircled by a halo,
but it’s also detached from her body. Still,
no matter what, she’s determined to reach
out to the orange light glowing in the far
corner of space. Her motherly violet body is
more grounded to the earth than the floating
pink body. I drew the picture while feeling
particularly ugly, but I guess it means that,
with all my wounds, I’m determined to find
some ultimate meaning to my life.
Homage to My Unborn Children: My husband
and I were childless (we had one miscarriage)
in a church that demanded we be fruitful. Of
course I felt horribly guilty. Rev. Moon gave
awards to those couples who had seven
children or more (he had at least 13). Fruitful
couples with many children were urged to
conceive specifically in order to give a child to
a childless couple. At least four couples tried to
get pregnant for my husband and me, but their
pregnancies miscarried. I think this drawing,
with the three embryos and three cracked eggs,
relates to the embryos that never made it. The
three partridges seem faithful and stalwart,
like good members, but their eyes look rather
zombie-ish, and they appear distant from the
whole process of bearing the eggs. The pink
background reminds me of the inside of a
fallopian tube, and the two swollen objects on
either side are like ripe ova. At least there is a
bright sun shining on everything. It was better
my husband and I didn’t have children anyway.
He always said children underfoot would have
inflamed his violent side. Better that their spirits
incarnated somewhere else.
