Sacred Swim

Lula swims the French Broad

Here on the banks of our own river,
here in the divine Blue Ridge,  the French Broad,
here where we gathered to worship Her, Oshun,
Mother of the River,
here in our town, and here too
in Nigeria, Osogbo, sacred to Her,
we gathered by the river, to sing, to drum,
to dance our love for Her, for each other,
for the beauty of the day, for the golden honey,
for the rippling waters of our river, and Hers,
we came to be Hers, to live our lives with Her,
at our own river, the French Broad, and for all the rivers,
for the Oshun river, for the Mekong,
for the Mississippi and the Yangtze,
we came to sing, to pray, to call out to Oshun,
and yes!  to swim,  lover of the river,
immersing in Her, feeling Her currents,
as so many of us watched and swam along,
together as one, one with the swimmer,
and Oshun, Her ripples, Her currents,
Her smooth stones, Her coolness and warmth,
one with the birds and the leaves falling,
the offerings we cast upon the water,
one with she who swam all the way,
all the way and back again,
with us, with all of us, loving Her,
loving our Lady, swimming with Her,
swimming for the love of Her.

Annelinde Metzner
Blessings on the River
August 26, 2011


      This year, 2020, we will have gathered to honor our rivers for the past 10 years, celebrating "Blessings on the River."  Originally inspired by Priestess of Oshun, Yeye Osunyemi, with whom I collaborated to compose songs in honor of the Ifa Orishas, Yemaya, Oshun and Oya, we began by meeting on the French Broad River in Asheville, and for the past few years, on the Swannanoa in Black Mountain.

      This poem represents our surprise and delight when one of the participants, Lula Moon, shed her clothes and took a swim across the wide French Broad during our ceremony.

Here is my voice in a reading:



For more information on the Ifa religion, follow this link.

Rainer Doost made 4 wonderful videos combining our 2010 "Blessings on the River" along with footage of the Oshun celebration held in Her city, Osogbo, Nigeria.

Part I
Part II
Part III
Part IV

Yeye Osunyemi and others in prayer by the French Broad river

Celebrants casting their blessings with popcorn

By the River                       

I returned to the riverside park,
the day quiet,  a few dry leaves blowing,
the river glassy, more like a lake really.
The lovely park which is all river, all Her,
Her power and majesty manifest,
just some grass and a sidewalk
plus Her, the River, magnificent.
There in the quiet by the tree of seven stems,
not a shred remained, but the memory of all this,
Oshun holding us gladly, still gazing and singing on the shore.
The voices chiming forth Her name,
the drummers and the drums,
the priestess bowing right to the ground,
the dancers, the smiling families,
the babies held high,
the worshippers offering their golden honey
for Her, for Her they moved to the river’s shore,
for Her they poured out their golden love,
their needs, their pain.
For Her someone doffed her clothes
and swam to the other side!
We gathered there by the river,
in the name of love and no more war.
We called out loud to Oshun,
for joy, for water, for our lives,
and She sings there still, calling back to us,
remembering our names.


Annelinde Metzner
Blessings on the River, Woodfin Riverside Park
September 15, 2010 










 

Sycamore Fig

Sycamore Fig fruiting

I know you by your absence, my adoration,
     your familiarity.
Great tree, Ficus Sycomorus, twenty meters tall,
     twice that in width,
     reaching out your wide expanse to protect us,
     our Ancient Mother.
Asherah! Asherah! I remember you as Goddess,
     nurturing us, fostering all beings,
     and in that life, in that dream,
     You were our altar.
Heart-shaped leaves, a canvas for artists through the ages.
Your abundant fruits!  Flowering year-long,
     they ripen green to yellow to richest red,
     proof of your divinity.
Each fruit-fall, a ton, ripens at Your leisure,
     at all times of the year, as it pleases You.
When You, Asherah, were Goddess at our altar,
     were those thousands of rich red fruits
     all the proof we needed?
At our altars, two thousand years ago and so much more,
     You fed us all, monkeys and humans, elephants and bats.
In Egypt, they painted You everywhere,
     as we suckled at Your holy breasts.
"Destroy their altar, break their images,
     and cut down their Asherim!"
     cried Moses, the teachings of the advancing hoards
     echoing down through the ages.
The good red fruit, Your menstrual blood,
     Your woman-power, Your all-giving grace,
     Your place of honor by the altar
     is now lost to us all.
Oh our Mother! Asherah! Sycamore Fig!
I am there again, singing,
     with my sistrum and my drum,
     dancing with all my people
     to the beat of the tambourine.
Roots wide-spread underground, 
     Your massive canopy overhead,
     I feel You reverberating,
     happy under our feet as we dance.
Oh Asherah, Sycamore Fig! African Queen,
     Queen of Trees, beloved of Egypt,
     adored in the Holy Land,
     in those holiest days before Yahweh and his swordsmen
     set out to destroy You....
You fed us all.
I feel Your wide-splayed roots
     and your luscious wide canopy
     growing holy and happy once more,
     fruits as red as my blood,
     in the ageless and undying altar of my heart.




Annelinde Metzner
January 1, 2020

Asherah

Egyptian mural of Tree Goddess

Beautiful trunk of the Sycamore Fig

Birds enjoying the sacred fig tree