How rare to know
A goddess who gets
Human things
You were human yourself, once
On hard mode
A woman
Who would gouge out her own eye
To keep her agency intact
Whose miracles were made
For other women
For the poor
Giving voice to the voiceless
Gifting justice to those
Who had no power to seek it
I wish I could know you
As well as you know me
For though you understand the need for
Joy and work and rest
The complexities of sadness
The healing nature of food and ale
My experience falls short
Of you who traversed
Countries and cultures
Hopped religions
Became both less and more than
What you always were
For the sake of we
Who are frail and finite
Whose little offerings
Whose gifts of time and praise
Cannot hope to compare
To the shelter of your mantle
The healing of your waters
The tempering of your forge
The spark the poets seek.
Image: "Koch tribal woman communicating with a sheep in her own loving way” by Nayeem. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.
