OSHUN
by Mary Kay Landon
From the river Oshun deep
in Nigeria
Whence came My name
I come to you today —
Clothed in burnished
copper grace,
all done up with My
cowrie shells and brass bracelets,
Sporting My fan, winking
in My mirror.
You love Me, because you
must —
Enraptured by My essence,
Snuggled in My
tender-hearted embrace,
Permeated by My soft
lust,
You can only want what I
ask.
call
on Me by name,
Oshun
Thoughts, Whispers,
Words, Shouts
I hear, hold and answer
to them all.
Oshun — Oshun — Oshun!
Call on Me by name
whenever women are degraded,
whenever sweetness is despised
whenever kindness is
shouted down,
whenever beauty
lies broken.
Oshun — Oshun — Oshun!
Call on Me by name
when a child’s simple
cry for a hair ribbon goes unanswered,
when a woman must
give her body to sex without pleasure,
whenever the forces of greed once again
rape nature in the name
of progress.
Oshun — Oshun — Oshun!
Call on Me by name
when the dry dust of
habit and utility,
Threaten to blot out
beauty and sensuality,
love and compassion, from
the field of daily life.
Call on Me by name
And I will return
Sashaying in My orange
skirts,
all done up with My
cowrie shells and brass bracelets,
Sporting My fan, winking
in My mirror.
To inspire and
comfort you,
With My presence and
touch —
Soft yes, but carrying a
force
that can move mountains.
Ashay.
 |
| Birth of Oshún by Karmella Haynes |
