by Annelinde Metzner
It seemed like water was everywhere-
the shimmer of scarves,
the shimmy of womanly bellies, muscular and yet soft,
skin billowing wave-like to the beats.
The dancer carried water upon her head,
blessing us, blessing us, healing our ills,
casting water upon the Earth for its deep magick.
The room grew quiet, and a dark-haired dancer emerged,
black skirts and gold, black leather, pearls in her hair,
and- what’s that?
around her waist and shoulder, a snake.
Dancing with her! The snake in love with her,
this watery undulation hers too,
the power of the serpentine.
And all at once it’s long ago,
women gathering to share this,
this movement, this joy, uniting us
with our bodies, with our Earth.
The Goddess is here! Six women dancing with swords!
There is such power...
And the Goddess says, “Do not forget me!”
Thousands of years have passed
since Inanna first dropped her veils
to the tune of the ancient modes, with santur, oud and dumbek.
“Do not be ignorant of Me,” She cries across the ages,
with the seven swords balanced.
“Be wise. Be aware.”
March 15, 2015