she created the world by dancing.
the twirl of her skirts without the heaviness of its bravery.
the cosmos endlessly twirling,
the energy of our creation building.
mistress to women
nurse for the wounded
gatekeeper for the dead
whispered breath for the return to living
spider woman skimming the land's terrain,
marking each grain for the first people
note: this was a poem for Monday but, somehow, i keep adding to it.