Yemaya

She has carved an ear from the granite cliff,

asking hard-hearted boat-men to listen.

Under a mantle of stormy skies,

rolling and roiling with whaling cries,

under the guidance of Midwife Moon,

Her salt tears glisten.

She heaves in the throes of a Yuga’s birth.

Will the future be still-born or yet alive?

Is there will for Her harmony to grow and thrive,

hope for the people on earth?

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Crying an ocean of clarity,

I scry My lap, My crystal ball.

Visions larger than dying blue whales swirl:

ready to emerge into the Real.

I Am Yemaya, the Sea, mermaid

whose breasts are mountains,

white waves My rhythmic

petticoats.

I Am Your Mama,

womb you swam in,

amniotic bliss. Dive in!

I Am Iamanja, imagination

bubbling, light, delight,

creation-dreaming oceanic depths.

Don't ask for luck. My blessings

flow. Give thanks.

At winter solstice dressed in white, return

to jump My breakers seven times.

What harm, My ungrateful children, can come of that?

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018