Sita, Daughter of Earth

My name means 'furrow.'

I rise, crescent,

growing, reborn,

through the crèche

of Earth’s brown labial crease.

They say I was a foundling, infant found

moon-shining in a furrow of a dark fertile field.

I emerge, self-arising, fatherless,

from between brown fertile thighs,

loving breasts of the land.

I arise, self-cradling, silver radiance,

a tender smile, curving from My Mother's lips.

Furrow's a fertile slit that's ploughed in earth.

Furrow's a secret word, for the sacred place

that only females have,

Mother Cleft, ‘rock of ages, cleft for me,’

a furry burrow,

and men would like to shelter there,

digging for love as if for gold.

That humble box of joy

belongs to womban.

Goddess gift to share, to protect,

it is Our heart and core, Our own.

Cunta, Yoni, Devi, Goddess of India,

I Am more

than merely mortar for a god pestle.

You share My latent crescent powers

of sensual embracing, healing, sheltering.

You share My Virgin power,

your vaginas

opening into creative Mystery,

the creative Void.

Fertile, you menstruate,

non-violent blood renewing,

conferring your Authority,

Authors of Life.

© Tamara Rasmussen 2018