River of Darkness

Out of the seamless river of Myself,

I tore, split open,

allowing firmament to exist.

Out of My molten turbulence

I birthed an island, as volcanoes do.

I opened My legs (cornucopia!)

and birthed Eden.

I Am the ground of being,

Source of eternity, infinity.

I have no need to stay put.

I Am the carrier of the container,

constantly moving.

I understand your need

for a place to stand.

I Am the river of night

that bathes you,

flowing within you.

The earth you stand on,

the world that surrounds you,

is My gift to you.

Universal Colossus,

I opened My legs, tore Myself open,

and the bleeding split between them

became home, rock of ages, shelter, shieling,

safe haven that sailors return to,

the drowning source they yearn to touch.

Why did I do it?  Some say because

My father, King of Nupe, asked Me to:

I tore My skirt for him,

shameless little virgin.

To fulfill the prophesy,

to protect the kingdom,

I parted the waters

to surround an island.

Of course, they would say that.

It soothes their pride,

to be the father of the Mother. 

Yes, I did it out of love: 

heart-rending, the tears, the tearing.

Every mother had a father,

over-shadowing, over-bearing,

until one tires of chasing shadows. 

Then the shadows swallow lies,

transforming them to truth,

and become Me, Oya,

dark Mother that all return to.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018