Cat’s Cradle

The first garment womben wore

(resplendent in our nakedness!)

was a dancing net, spelled knot,

(weapon?) tool, beautility!

(crocheted crotch, creche, fiche,

string hag’s bag,

hair-net made of hair? harness, her nest.)

‘rag,’ lined with soft moss, for a blessed mess,

ready for times of blood’s renewal,

swim-suit shed to catch a fish,

or thrown to snare a bird or hare,

bandage to hold a splint.

(We were fishers/hunters not ‘just’ gatherers!

How do I know? I gather, wool.)

How could we forget? gift-wrapped,

shameless in our glory,

(ego? no.) gifted with capability,

sure of our central place

in whumban story!

Later, trapped,

we hid, forbidden, under shapeless

trappings of shame.

When did we lose

our ageless naked aegis,

authority

as authors of life?

We lost

the 7 symbols of Inanna’s power,

the sacred city’s 7 gates,

Darusalaam, city of peace!)

Dancing sisters!

Re-knit wisdom!

(child’s play, cat’s cradle, finger-game,

honest (hornet’s) nest of knowing,

working mala, rosary of twisted vines,

meditation in action.)

In seines of sanity and health,

fearless dream-catchers!

en-mesh us all again

in the web of wholeness, life.

Re-weave respect.

Between nimble fingers, dancing legs

of gynergy’s gyrations,

re-weave, with Spider Grandmother’s skill,

a future held and healed, hallowed,

welcoming, hello: 7 beloved generations,

forever and ever. Ho.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018