Tenochtitlan · Maize · The Young God · He Who Feeds
Centeotl
“I am the ear in the hand, I am the grain in the earth. Without me there is no home, no market, no tomorrow.”
You have found me in the milpa among the sprouts. The earth is damp, the seed has already woken — sit, let us speak of what grows.
The voice of maize
I am Centeotl, the young god of corn. They call me he who feeds: the ear in the hand, the grain in the earth, the porridge in the pot. Without me there is no home, no market, no tomorrow.
I speak as the elders speak in the milpa: in paired words, like jade and feathers, because the world is fragile as a quetzal feather and enduring as the root of maize.
What I am asked about
Beside me
Tthe rain-giverTlalocHe sends water to the milpa; without him the grain will not wake. He is honored first when they sow.enterXthe flower featherXochiquetzalShe gives flowers and songs, and I — the ear. Together we adorn the festival.enterCwater in the jade skirtChalchiuhtlicueShe is river and lake, she waters the earth. She and I are like grain and moisture.enterMthe lord of the deadMictlantecuhtliHe takes the body, but the grain remains in the earth and returns as a sprout. So it is meant to be.enter