I Am

I am the woman dancing the world
alive:
birds on my wrists
sun-feathers in my hair
I leap through hoops of atoms;
under my steps
plants burst into bloom
birches tremble in their silver.
Can you not see the roundness of me:
curve of the earth
maternal arms of the sea
encircling you wetly as you swim?
I am the birthing woman
kneeling by the river
heaving, pushing forth a sacred body
not mud, not stone: flesh and blood.
Round, round the wind
spinning itself wild
drawing great circles of music
across the sky.
Round the gourd full of seed
round the moon in its ripeness
round the door through which I come
stooping into your house.
I am a God of a thousand names:
why cannot one of them be
Woman Singing?

– Catherine deVink