Pandora

Mother and Lover of Pan,

Mother and Lover of All.

I have become identified

with Eve’s disobedience,

with a box of evil

disguised as treasure,

a disappointment to greed,

with voyeurs peeping

fearfully through a hole,

with womban enslaved:

slit, slot, slattern, slut.

Yet hope hides alive,

last in the box.

At the beginning of time

I opened My legs,

and all of creation flowed out.

I pour out the astounding waterfall

of blessing and meaning

that you call reality,

and so much more unseen,

sustaining, nurturing:  My gifts. 

I wait open to receive creation

as My lover at the end of time.

I Am andro/gynous, gen/eros,

a horn of plenty opening, cornucopia,

womb-basket criscross-woven,

self-fertile, continuously birthing hope.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018