The Princess of the River

I was born wearing My necklace of 13 pearls,

said the old woman riding a water buffalo

who left Me, an orphan, in our village.

I had nothing else, but I walked like a princess.

I tossed My head of shining curls at the teasing boys.

When they snatched My pearls from My neck

and threw them over the cliff into the river,

I dived in without a backward glance.

At the bottom of the river, My Grandmother

sat on a throne of fish-bones

wearing the necklace.

I curled up in Her mermaid lap.

I kissed Her bubbly, fishy mouth;

I combed Her seaweed hair.

When I climbed up to My village again,

I was wearing My necklace,

but no one could say what it was:

it changed!

Sometimes it was diamonds;

sometimes it was feathers;

sometimes it was tiny skulls,

sometimes eyes that flashed.

They leave Me be, the silly boys.

They know they are out of their depth.

They call Me the Princess of the River.

They know I Am priestess.

I Am, I will be,

the wise-woman forever.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018