It appears that evidently the hearts of the entire world, and particularly the hearts of ladies, are grieving now, as struggle and warmongering take over an increasing number of of the Earth. Patriarchy rages on, like a monster in its loss of life throes, and we marvel, “will they take us all down with them?” It’s my hope that these poems will assist us to maintain on holding on, carry on loving Her.
My grief, my love for the world
I watch the dancer, one arm framing her face,
one hip drawing upward within the stomach’s rhythm.
The dance of mature ladies, Raqs Sharqi
born of the sensuous music of the Center East.
Her hips pull us into infinity,
an inward-outward shout of magnificence and want.
In Cameroon, infants be taught music
whereas strapped to Mama’s again.
Coming of age, boys leap excessive,
beaming with the village’s newfound respect.
In Bali, the gamelan orchestra cues the dancer
with clangs and thumps,
the our bodies telling tales of monsters and gods,
every motion of eyes, and fingers, and toes
a superbly timed posture of sacred geometry.
Oh people, oh, people, can’t you’re keen on all this?
Can’t you’re keen on the way in which we’ve created the world,
every tradition born of every distinctive place,
and every of us expressing in our personal means?
Doesn’t this magnificence tear at your coronary heart,
that in every single place we draw up our Earth’s power
via our toes, via our palms,
and we thank Her with leaps and turns,
ecstatic to be stretching our bounds?
Oh folks of our Earth, can’t you’re keen on all this?
The beautiful mudras of Bharat Natyam,
nuances of the courtship of Radha and Krishna, her love?
The kibbutz youth, leaping to dumbek and flute,
‘til pleasure bursts like fireworks from the chest?
Oh people, oh infinite range,
aren’t you breathtaken, aren’t you amazed?
don’t you treasure one another, for the vastness
of what, collectively, we’re?
The Peace Choir
Sing, O heavens, shout, O depths of the earth; break forth into singing, O mountains,
O forest, and each tree in it! Isaiah 44:23
The ladies come to sing.
Within the chilly and icy darkish, we collect
to rehearse the songs of peace..
“I’m gonna lay down my sword and protect…”
Placing apart aches and pains, and critical ills,
we come to sing with that wee bit of religion,
that final urge someplace hidden deep within the coronary heart.
“Oh, if I might ring like a bell…”
The good Black Dome, the nice mountain
hears them coming, the mountain coronary heart leaping.
“a track of peace, for his or her land, and for mine…”
till we arrive, there at Black Dome’s toes,
to open our mouths and hearts for Her love,
leaving our houses with all our annoyances,
to sing, to wail, to cry out
for the world we will see, inside attain.
How lovely upon the mountains are the toes of those that publish peace. Isaiah 52:7
The daisies bid me inform their story
Clear as solar amongst mallow, at pond’s edge,
all magnificence, Oshun’s delight.
A thousand forget-me-nots glory in Her,
say “overlook Her not,
the Goddess of Magnificence,
great thing about all issues.”
And the impoverished exile, trudging roads,
counting kids, hauling possessions,
no residence however her personal two toes:
Does she overlook?
The bombing sufferer, glassy eyes staring from beneath beams:
Does she overlook?
Sufferer of annihilation, limbs fused at odd angles:
Does she overlook?
The sluggish pleasure of the attention for blue-white flowers,
the crusing swallow, the hummer’s buzz,
Your worship, Woman Oshun, for whom all magnificence is:
your worship is cautious, time-consuming, sluggish.
You have been born in a large expanse of time, elegant jeweled Woman.
The exile by the roadside remembers
and weeps trails of tears for You.
Within the minutes earlier than loss of life, the bombing sufferer remembers
and goals lengthy sweet-smelling goals of You.
At her deathbed, the Hiroshima sufferer
rides a chariot bedecked with roses,
floating in Your muscled arms, Aphrodite-Oshun,
to the blue-flowered lovers’ bower, from past reminiscence.
And the daisies bid me inform their story,
highly effective as they gleam by the lots of,
basking in solar and bending in rain:
that in these inexperienced beings is much extra energy
than any metal bomb within the sky;
that within the inexperienced gleam of on a regular basis grass
the facility of life begins and thrives
via millennia; via exile, torture, coup.
Although the federal government of nations change ten thousand instances,
the forget-me-not nonetheless crowds her blue pleasure
into the puddled corners of Earth.
Time in plenitude to broadly love Her,
deep and candy because the tongues of lovers.
Neglect-Her-Not, inexperienced beings of Earth.
Love Her magnificence.
Celebration of Loss of life
Autumn within the Blue Ridge.
A golden glow emanates
because the leaves slowly launch their chlorophyll,
revealing their true selves,
their true colours.
Within the mushy breeze,
on this ridge-top dominated by wind,
one leaf drops, then one other,
carelessly, an afterthought,
However within the full-force wind, it’s a celebration!
It’s a riot of launch,
a bright-colored snowfall,
every leaf shouting “Whee,
let’s turn into compost!”
In all this brilliance, lit by solar,
rose-red, pumpkin-orange, sun-yellow,
purple of asters,
brown stiff corn drying on the stalks,
my Mom, my Goddess instructs us-
“Have a look at Me! Always remember,
my human little children,
I’m the Queen of Loss of life as a lot as Life!
Every finish of life is mine, and every starting,
the waxing and the waning,
the build up after which the letting go.
Regeneration is my watchword.
I provide the great thing about Autumn,
to carry you,
to thrill you and heat you,
till you too move like a vibrant leaf
on to the following factor.”
Black Mountain, North Carolina
BIO: Annelinde Metzner honors the Divine Female together with her poetry and music. She has composed many reward songs included in her songbook, “Woman of Ten Thousand Names,” and has created and produced live shows for the Goddess together with most lately, “Female Faces of God.” She directs the choir on the UUCSV in Black Mountain, NC, and based the ladies’s choirs Womansong and Sahara Peace Choir in Asheville NC.