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Reweaving the basket; a poem

Posted on Sep 29, 2022 in Poetry, Uncategorized

Reweaving the basket

I was inspired to write this poem after reading Ursula Le Guin’s wonderful article, “The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction“, and imagining a return to harmony with the earth and her natural cycles. So here is Reweaving the basket:

“Never put all your eggs in one basket,” so they say,
But the Goddess knew what she was doing when
She placed us carefully into the wide woven bowl
That rested on her swelling belly.

“How beautiful,” she crooned as she arranged
Forests and foxes, rivers and reptiles,
In riotous perfection around our tiny forms.
Only when the basket overflowed with
Life-sustaining goodness did she set it down,
With some reluctance.
She still had much to give, but it was time
To loose her latest child to find its flow,
And grow.
A sigh, a last and lingering look over
A softly rounded shoulder and she lay
To rest beneath admiring sky, one arm curved round
The blessed vessel of Her womb.
And while she slept she dreamed the seasons cycling,
The moon above a magical reflection
In the eternal wheeling of the stars.
And we dreamed too,
Of life and death and birth again,
Renewing and receding with each breath the Goddess took.
A part of all around us; circular.
But in crept doubt with a polished metal gleam,
Keen bite of jagged edges, thorny corners that
Pointed straight towards destruction.
We razed a space within the base
And called it ours, and as we turned our faces
To the sun, we overlooked the mysteries of the moon
And we demanded more.
And more.
And more.
Until its once abundant contents dwindled and
The basket braiding frayed and thinned.
But we hauled ourselves over the edge
And sealed ourselves in steel cages set in concrete,
Scooping incessant, severed hands into a distant dish
To fuel an insatiable void.
When she awoke from dreams disturbed by dire dread,
A roar of rage and grief ripped through
The Goddess, choking on our desecration.
We stared back from isolated eyes and icier hearts
As she unleashed a fiery fury first
Then dowsed that with a flood of tears,
Her being shaken, sorrow-shocked.
We slowly blinked the blinds from sun-spoiled sight
As her eyes softened with persisting love.
She drew us to her fertile breast, breathed the balm
Of belonging into our ruptured, rootless souls.
Smiling, though now wracked by pain,
And welcoming the early pangs of birth,
She set us back among the mending fibres
And watched us reach regenerative fingers to the earth.

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Semele Xerri

© Semele Xerri is a psychic intuitive guide, healer, animal communicator, and Reiki Healer / Master Teacher. To find out more about her and her services, go to her Work with me page.
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