gifts of the goddess

.:. poems & musings .:.

~~
omi

this is freely given.

you are welcome to share,
(re)post, (re)tweet, and so on,
with proper attribution.

omi [oh-ME]
raha.reiki@gmail.com
rahareiki.tumblr.com
~
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Original works L.A. Murdock 2014. All rights reserved. {creative commons}

inspired by & dedicated to the Divine Feminine...

Oshun
Nut
Menhit
Durga
Aziri / Ezili
Oya
Lakshmi
Yemonja
HetHru
Sekhmet
KaliMa
Mami Wata
...and liberated women everywhere.
may She bless us all, always.

invocation
no matter how you found these words,
or where you are on your Path,
may you rest, assured, in the Love and Care of the Divine Mother.

as.

litany of an unreformed magdalene

it may sound delusional to say that being violated made me who i am, but it's true.
i can't say who i'd be if i hadn't been a broken-hearted girl with too much information.
hell was my cocoon, but its fires tempered a steely butterfly.
this sexy wasnt free.

sacrifice
i.
i am
the holy whore,
redfoot woman.
etched with henna,
brass and gold sing as i walk-ankles, feet, neck and crown
heavy with adornments.
full
always full
of my own
water.
quenching thirst,
cleansing souls.
i have laid upon the altar,
gave and gave;
conceived children of god
deep within myself;
greeting them with fruit and incense
upon conception.

ii.
maybe
i have always known my place.
now, men fear
rather than respect;
no one teaches them.
no one leads them.
...yet they come.
drawn to the old ways
with numbed tongues
and far deeper wounds
than my hands can heal.

iii.
i am qadishtu,
a woman alone in her tent;
snow maiden,
daughter of HetHru;
lightning for eyes,
honey for thighs.
nearly alone
this lifetime.
unadorned,
nearly forgotten...
but
incapable
of fading away.

so many men, so many lifetimes.

once, they held no judgment, no pretense. only respect.
i would become so intertwined with them that solitude became sensual, a precious personal space.
time to rest firmly within my own body without calling on the Goddess to heal or consult.
i walked in power. every step, every gesture, mattered.
i was a sacrifice, yes...but never a martyr. there was nothing pitiful or sad about my service.
in this time, offering my body as community property would be disastrous. sexuality has been defiled,
the true Womanspirit stifled.
still, i am not alone. my lovers live within me, and they are innumerable.
they hold me in the empty spaces
...still praising, still grateful.

temple woman's prayer

Mother of Mothers
Immaculate Heart
Blessed One
hear me now.
shield, guide and protect your daughter.
show me the path that will feed my heart and soul.
protect me from those who can only see my body and its pleasures,
who would use my power as their own.
bring me true love and affection.
give me, grant me the power to heal in other dimensions,
and the freedom to choose when to do it intimately.
may i never, ever be forced into this position, nor relegate another to that fate.
may those in the profession be protected and respected.
remind me, Sweet Mother, that my body is Your instrument, Your vessel.
i may not love all, but know i can be compassion-filled.
where my legs remain closed, may my heart remain appropriately open...
thank You
for my beauty
the sway of my hips
my shape
my sensuality
my flirtatious, wild nature.
i love who You've made me.
strengthen my mind, heart and spirit.
remove all shame and doubt.
what You have bestowed, let no one rend asunder.
as.

primordial
for each of us as women, there is a dark place within, where hidden and growing our true spirit rises...
these places of possibility within ourselves are dark because they are ancient and hidden; they have
survived and grown strong through the darkness. within these deep places, each one of us holds an
incredible reserve of creativity and power, of unexamined and unrecorded emotion and feeling. the
woman's place of power within each of us is neither white nor surface; it is dark, it is ancient, and it is
deep.
~ Audre Lorde, "Poetry Is Not A Luxury

i encountered my deep, dark womb-self:

veiled, cloaked in luscious, merlot red.
sensuous, ethereal;
real yet fantastic.
a lightness possessing the gravity of eons.

the witches testimony

not all wombs open easily.
there are many ways to warm a bed
and feed from breasts.
there was a time
when a woman unto herself
was understood and embraced
as a different kind of ideal.
over time,
politics gained import.
the men got suspicious
and aroused the suspicion of our sisters...
She said:
"it's all right. from now on, youll just have to be brave.
this path will be laced with broken glass
instead of leisure.
but you will know who you are.
and, if you learn your lessons well,
I will guarantee that you want for nothing."
so, yes, daughter,
we have always been here.
yes, some turned bitter, seeing our sisters' comforts:
years of smug smiles and haughty glances
inspired sterile darkness.
therein lies the worst of our reputation.
still...
most of us
were simply good
and misunderstood.

omo Oshun
i.
sweet scents and
shea butter rubdowns
singing silent love notes to my body.
hot tea after a hot bath.
silk.
tracing the lines of my tattoos
with idle fingers.

ii.
sometimes i forget:
love will always bring me back to center
fill the holes,
mend what's broken,
seal the cracks with honeycomb.
love guides my waters home.
and water has no enemy.

homecoming
i have journeyed back to the deep darkness
the blackness of the womb, inky nothingness of space.
the beginning.
reunited with the Source:
She who loves Her sons
but offers Her daughters Her secrets
She's implanted them
in our hearts, spirits:
songs hummed as dish-washing soundtracks,
knit into sweaters;
whispers sliding down soup spoons
as we
stir
watch
wait...
"who has harmed you,
She asks.
and where can I find one so foolish?"
hearing Her voice,
we cease being strong
(if we haven't already)
and pour out our hearts;
we linger,
warmed by Mama's bosom, delighting in Her love
until we are ready to travel again.
we leave bearing gifts
grander than the ones we gave,
smiling sweetly
or still weeping,
but encouraged, strengthened
well aware
that our gracious, wondrous Mother
suffers no fools.

good morning
easing out of dreams,
i am bathed in warm honey
that pools at the base of my spine,
rinsed in river water,
and loved.