THE MOTHER GODDESS - SATCHITANANDA

1.

At the moonrise of time
the Primal Power –
flower and force of all growing things,
knowing source of all blessings,
the Mother Goddess –
was, with meek sweetnesses
and awe, adored
by the Gatherers
for Her seed-sprouting rains,
and Her sun-ripened grain,
while the Hunters
extolled Her manifold
fleet-of-foot, wing and fin
untamed game – for its food, fur and skin.
Everywhere loved figures of Her,
plump with promise,
fused unseen with seen
to honour Her omnipotence.
Worship by women entwined
the heart of mankind.


2.

When the tidal mists burn away,
tribal men pray
in different words
for lush grasses
to feed their nomad herds;
for polished brasses
and lightening
to frighten their enemies;
for thunder and law to remedy
factious reaction;
for carpets to barter in the marts;
and for beads, calibrated
to decorate mothers
of other sons
replacing the gunners
lost in the bracing causes
of venging wars.
“Dread Father God,
headfast, strong,
grant us Thy nod;
punish the singers
of other songs;
protect us from lingering
doubt; deflect the tempest;
grant us Thy best
defenses for our tents,
and make all grandstanding
outsiders either dead
or in our alliance!”
With heady defiance
Priests proscribe
all other tribes.


3.

The day heats, brow-beating
tribes, trapped by things, adapt.
Ignoring tried-tested pasts,
and allied to a future I-ness,
they compete, cheat, retreating
from the Repaymaster’s Grace.
And yet, and yet, though challenged,
the Great Spectator
of our unhinged games,
regularly sends, in love,
His Navigators
to parley, tame and mend
lost and storm-tossed
voyagers in their crossing
of the battering, confusing
Ocean of Illusion which flows
from matters fraught with matter
to the Port of Infinite Spirit.

Yet many deep sea-farers
still take their bearings
from lesser, more aggressive stars;
still sail afar with the golden calf
at their flagstaff; still ignore truth,
demanding eyes for an eye
and teeth for a tooth;
still, with unstilled hate
and desecration, annex the vortex.


4.

So now, with the sun at its highest
driest, we, the grail-seeking global tribals,
with our fail-safe fluency of currency,
our individual rationalism,
our rational individualism,
our corporations richer than nations,
our stitched-up markets,
our trademarked
modifying of genes
and the codified means
of reshaping inscapes,
binding our minds,
and cloning our own,
we, against all odds,
can play god!