Spider Grandmother           

I Am Grandmother Spider, the Creator,

many-armed, honored by all earth people.

To each of you I gave a sacred thread.

I need you all to weave the world.

Yes, some of you have got things tangled up,

but the threads are strong

beyond all breaking.

The fabric is a blessing,

its (ozone!) holes self-mending. 

Feel the life-force renewing within you. 

You must begin at the center

to catch the thread of your own life.

Truth is a shining path I spin for you

from the substance of My body,

spiraling deeper and deeper into you. 

It is a path of beauty,

dance of seven directions. 

You are all part of the net of life,

part of a sacred harmony,

your power inextricable

from the sticky web of All.

I knit you, and you tend Me;

we are (Om!) one basket, interwoven.

You are each a milky way

of dancing atoms.

You are lacy cobwebs, dreams,

gossamer illusion.

I Am black widow, One-in-Myself,

spinning the fabric of the universe

from the center of My body,

the hour-glass of eternity

painted menstrual-red

on the shining obsidian

of My pregnant belly.

Only I can mend

the web of life I spun,

reweave the tattered fabric,

frayed edge of hope.

You see My weaver’s hand at work

in synchronicity.

Open like a rosebud

to enfold our meeting.

Let everything you touch

be a shared relation

of joy, healing and praise.

This is My story. This is My medicine.  Ho!

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018