Her First Children

Her temper had finally cooled. The pools of molten lava lay without structure or form in her belly. Now she could travel deep within and create.

With each thought, each feeling, each dream, new structures took shape. She wondered about whether there were any of her kind out there, she dreamed of love and companionship, she felt a deep contentment that comes from within, she thought about how to organise her thoughts, how to protect her growing children, herself, she felt compassion and care. She dreamt of her children taking their place outside of her womb.

With each new moment, her children were starting to manifest. Some clung to her, some started their ascent to the sunlight, some waited patiently, knowing their final form would only be ready after many years has passed. They sat silently, strengthened by the movements of their Mother, brandished by her fire and sculpted by her water, tempered by her soft breath until it was time.

As they emerged into the light they sang with voices never before heard.

Quartz sang of perfect stillness and their deep connection to their Mother

Carnelian sang a playful song of happiness

Amethyst sang of thankfulness for their being

Citrine sang a song of joy and delight

Tourmaline sang a song of strength and connection

And as more of their brothers and sisters awoke their bright songs filled the skies.

Their Mother smiled.


I have been playing with the idea of writing stories for children about the crystal world. I wanted to share the magic that these precious stones can offer, magic which is really another form of science yet to be discovered. This is my first attempt. A creation story if you will. I have often referred to crystals as Mother Earth’s first children so it seemed a good starting point. This came to me when thinking about my own journey with Motherhood, in my case, not being a mother this time round, and how all of us are borne of the same Earth, that we are the same as the plants, animals and rocks all native to this special home. We are one in the most fundamental sense, we are all her children.

Published by Kirstie Sivapalan

Writer. Poet. Indie Kid. Crystal Lady. Pisces. Enthuser. Cheerleader. Helper. Geordie Londoner. Sharer of stuff I know. Sometimes found working in HR (but not very often) Oh, and #spoonie, living with ME/CFS. That about covers it.

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