Annelinde Metzner – Feminism and Religion

Caravanserai and Other Poems by Annelinde Metzner

This set of poems reflects on ways we humans have responded creatively, expansively and artistically to the challenges of our times. Of course, two of the poems center upon music, one of the strongest themes of my own life. The first and last poems are ways that the natural world is always knocking at the door, saying, “pay attention.”

Like this

“Like this,” says the titmouse,
hanging upside down to get at the suet.
“If you really want it, there it is.”
“Like this,” says the January sun,
one day icing us to our bones,
and today like Spring,
warm enough for rides
on little boys’ new scooters.
“Like this,” say the squirrels,
entranced with each other,
whirling ’round the branches,
twining fluffy tails,
intent on making new Squirrel babies.
“Like this,” says the chickadee,
landing near my toe,
tiny and brave, ready to eat,
scolding me to get out of the way.
“You are here to live,
so live.”

Hopscotch Spells by Annelinde Metzner

In my work with the folklore and music of children’s games and circles, I’m enchanted by how many bits of magic are interwoven into everyday children’s games from many, many years ago. Our childhood closely intersects with the deep, witchy, magic world of spells, talking animals and whispering spirits.

POEM: “Hopscotch Spells”

One, two, three, O’lary,
four, five, six, O’lary….

I’m pulled like a slingshot’s band
back to those childhood, everyday spells.

Ally, ally, in-come-free!

Each day, we’d open the screen door
and hurry to our witches’ college,
pursuing a degree in the Child’s School of Magic.

One potato, two potato, three potato, four!

What drew us to each other this way?
The circle of street kids, our pals,
our fists beating out the rhythms,
our jumps and our skips conjuring powers.

Regeneration by Annelinde Metzner

This time one year ago, our world here in Appalachia seemed like it hadn’t changed in a thousand years. The giant, churning, awesome power of Hurricane Helene had not yet whipped our waters into a frenzy, and caused the mountains to slide downhill, carrying our lives away. And yet, from just below the earth’s surface, Spring reappears with all Her perseverance, Her steadfastness, Her fertile abundance. The slow, steady regeneration of our Mother inspires me to keep going, day by day, hour by hour.

Primavera

The newness of Spring, Primavera, ”first green,”
soft petals that banish Winter’s icy grip,
the return of the Galax, the trillium,
the return!
Full-blown rebirth,
bright, brilliant green shining in the sun,
Spring!
Rebirth decked out like a debutante
with a roomful of courtiers,
flipping the world from darkness to light.
Ferns unfurl,
fiddleheads play on the forest floor,
insects awaken and buzz
in a hundred keys of life.
Humans awaken too, reminded once more
of the richness of the return.
A breeze blows over the galax,
the Mayapples spread their elegant leaves
The promise of the Great Mother:
we will begin again.

The Wave: Poems from Hurricane Helene by Annelinde Metzner

For 37 years, I have resided with awe and delight in the Appalachian Mountains near Asheville, North Carolina. With gratitude for the palpable strength and ageless beauty of the great mountains down to the tiniest ephemeral flowers, I have poured out poetry and music in honor of Her and my life here. In one day (or three, including the days of rain leading up,) Her pristine beauty and the homes and lives of thousands were destroyed by the violent winds and rain of Hurricane Helene. I was dropped into a deep well of grief, which I still experience to this day. But something very ancient, basic and fundamental pushed me to write poems, astounded as I was by the events and human interactions around me. I hope these poems give you some sense of the experience.

Convivencia, poems by Annelinde Metzner

For this post, I’ve collected five of my poems from the past ten years up to the present, which are centered around the people and cultures of the Middle East. Like the region, the poems are filled with hope and unspeakable grief.

A House for the Goddess by Annelinde Metzner

For the past few years I’ve been contributing to FAR as a poet. So grateful for the opportunity to connect with you wise women! This month I realize I should share with you another side of me, my music.

On June 8th, I produced, directed and composed the music for “A House for the Goddess” in Asheville, North Carolina, featuring 29 performers including two sopranos, a cellist, myself and another pianist, two dancers, an MC and a women’s choir. The concert, whose venue was offered generously by Land of the Sky United Church of Christ, was a sellout, and over three thousand dollars was raised for the Linda Norgrove Foundation for the women and children of Afghanistan (https://lindanorgrovefoundation.org.)

My compositions, both choral pieces and solo art songs, always find their birth through the inspiration of poetry. At this venue, the texts of the poetry were displayed on two screens overhead as the songs were sung.

Poems by Annelinde Metzner

For a number of years, I’ve been staying at the St. Helena’s Island, South Carolina home of Ifetayo White, Reiki Master, teacher of doulas, and healer in many modalities. I am always deeply healed by Ifetayo’s presence, and by the island itself. This island near Beaufort is the home of the Gullah people, who have kept their land since Reconstruction according to a legal system called “Heir’s Property.”

The spirits are strong here, and I’ve tried to capture some of the essence of the island and of Ifetayo, in these poems. In the first, I describe Ifetayo’s wonderful healing room. The second features the Grandmother Tree, one of the live oaks covered with Spanish moss, so prevalent in the Low Country. The third features the Resurrection Fern, which appears brown and almost dead on the limbs of the oaks, but springs into vivid greenness after a rain.

What, Together, We Are by Annelinde Metzner

It seems that the hearts of the whole world, and especially the hearts of women, are grieving now, as war and warmongering take over more and more of the Earth. Patriarchy rages on, like a monster in its death throes, and we wonder, “will they take us all down with them?” It is my hope that these poems will help us to keep on keeping on, keep on loving Her.

My grief, my love for the world

I watch the dancer, one arm framing her face,
one hip drawing upward in the belly’s rhythm.
The dance of mature women, Raqs Sharqi
born of the sensuous music of the Middle East.
Her hips pull us into infinity,
an inward-outward shout of beauty and desire.

Ancient Her-Story by Annelinde Metzner

Lately I’ve been rereading and refreshing myself with important books of the Great Goddess. Three books at a time! I would switch off, chapter by chapter, among When God Was a Woman by Merlin Stone, When the Drummers Were Women by Layne Redmond, and one that had remained overlooked on my shelf, Sanctuaries of the Goddess, The Sacred Landscapes and Objects, by Peg Streep (1994.) I’ve been immersed in the knowledge of 30,000 years of honoring and worship of women’s bodies and the Great Goddess. When I got to Chapter 7 of Peg Streep’s well-researched book, “The Goddess at the Peak: Crete,” I was blown away with the evidence we still have, in art, architecture, religion and culture, of a highly advanced society, full of life and joy, where women were central to all life. With my mind, my heart, my intuition and my sense of past lives, I’ve attempted to place myself there, before any influence of patriarchy.

Every Atom of Our Being by Annelinde Metzner

In the vibrant, sensual, lush season of Beltaine, when all the world (at least in our hemisphere!) awakens to greenness, rebirth and new life, I’m pulled to express myself through the body. The Goddess is our body, and the Earth’s body, and that of all beings. The sacred is in every atom of our being. The snake, and the apple, and the tree are all symbols of Her, and She gives us the many gifts of our body without shame. She loves to hear us singing back, as She sings to us.