My Goddess by Mary Gelfand

My Goddess is unconfined
      –unbound
–unlimited
–unrestricted.

My Goddess exists beyond
–the images of Her created by men
–the words describing Her written by men
–the laws coercing Her, enacted by men.

My Goddess is ubiquitous
–dancing with the trees and birds and wind
–plumbing the ocean depths with dolphins and octopi
–cuddling the seeds and roots under the Earth and the flowers on her surface
–sliding up and down rays of sun shine and moon beams with infinite joy.

My Goddess is formless
–neither old nor young
  –neither buxom nor flat
–neither thin nor full-bodied
Until my imagination gives Her the form that meets my needs.

She is sui generis—singular and unique.
–She does not fit into the systems and structures that humans have invented to define and restrain Her.
–She does not play by patriarchy’s rules.  
–She writes her own rules. 

Some days She comes to me in Her lithe and supple Youth and leads me in dances with the Fae.

Some days She welcomes me into Her arms as She aspects Mother Love—comforting my traumas, soothing my physical and psychic aches, assuring me of Her Love.

Some days I become Her voice—speaking her truth—proclaiming our Sovereignty as empowered women.

On the days She looks most like me, She is the Crone—long silver hair—soft rounded aching body—serenity etched on Her face as She stills my racing mind and whispers Divine Wisdom into my ears.

My Goddess is direct—
She captures my eyes and I can’t look away as she penetrates my very soul.
She massages my aching feet and reminds me that self-care is also part of worship. 
She touches my heart and suddenly we are weeping together for the pain Her human children willfully inflict on each other and all Her creations.

My Goddess is ephemeral—
–a wisp of fragrance enmeshed in the passing wind
–a glimpse of movement caught over my shoulder
–a hushed voice naming me daughter.

My Goddess can be a moody bitch, but She has the right as I see it.
She changes everything She touches, and everything She touches changes.*
But everything humans touch changes too, generally in ways that are not life-affirming.  
She asks that I notice the natural world is always changing—days, moons, seasons. 
She invites me to embrace the changes that are part of the natural cycles of the universe—to make them a part of my worship.

She comes to me as roses, snakes, bears, and oaks.
She comes to me as laboring mothers and newborns.
She comes to me as youths seeking ways to define themselves.
She comes to me as elders seeking places to rest their weary bodies and ways to share their wisdom.
She comes to me as decapitated mice and dying trees and extinct species.
She comes to me as newly orphaned children of war and grenade throwing terrorists.
She comes to me as ego-tripping dictators and profiteering plutocrats, united in life-destroying goals.
She comes to me as soldiers, trapped in a web of religious and political beliefs, forced to commit acts they find abhorrent.

These too are my children, She whispers, her voice soaked with sorrow. 
Remember that. 
These too are my beloveds.  

*Reclaiming song, written by Starhawk
**Art:  Birth of a Galaxy, by Willow Arlena, https://www.mysticlifedesign.com/