Hope for a New Year

2016.  What can I say?

You reminded of the myth of Pandora, who in the view of the ancient, misogynistic Greeks, unleashed all that ails and pesters the human condition through her unchecked feminine propensity  to poke around where she was expressly forbidden to do so.

Well, after all the evils, sins, diseases and pain escaped and flew off to plague the world, Pandora heard a faint little knocking and a pitiful cry inside the box she had slammed shut a bit too late.  She tried to ignore it.  After all, she had caused enough harm.  Still the crying continued until Pandora opened the box once again.  This time HOPE flew out.

One little fluttering sprite meant to go out into the whole wide world and help humans endure their suffering.  With HOPE, they would manage.

220px-opened_up_a_pandoras_boxImage from Wikipedia, based on painting by F.S.Church

Personally, I am thinking we need more hopefulness.  It is surely time for the divine feminine to step up.  I wrote this poem several years ago.

The Gift Giver

In a swirl of dust, she arrived

bearing an earthen jar,

worn to a soft, coppery luster

that gleamed in the sun.

A maiden formed of clay and water,

from the earth she rose.

GIver of all gifts,

she was called Pandora.

“Come closer,” she waved,

and the people drew near

in both fear and wonder,

drawn by her gentle smile.

When the hill around her

was crowded with the women

who were in search of bits of

food to bring to their families,

Pandora opened the lid

of her ancient jar

and lifted out a pomegranate,

red skin split by the seeds within.

“Mothers, you are the givers of life.

I bring these gifts to you.

May you have abundant blessings

from wombs as fertile as my fruit.”

Once again, she reached into the jar,

then held aloft a grape vine,

heavy with ripened clusters

of its sweet purple orbs.

“Mothers, you are the tenders

of family and home fires.

May these grapes sustain you

so no one shall want.”

Then she lifted out a tree,

branches, twisted and gnarled,

thickly laden with olives,

green and spice-scented.

“Mothers, you are the keepers

of memories.  I anoint you

with the oil of wisdom, that

you may nurture a just peace.”

Pandora lifted her heavy jar

and shook out all the seeds

to dance in the arms of the wind,

then settle in hearts, open and pure.

Love, acceptance, courage, faith.

Mercy, strength, wisdom–

all these seeds and more–

Pandora’s gifts to the earth.

“O, women, keep these seeds

alive and growing. Let them thrive

through all who follow.

O, mothers. lead the way.”


6 thoughts on “Hope for a New Year

  1. Personally I have always felt that the myth of Pandora was half wrong. Some man in his ultimate wisdom let out all the ills and Pandora come along and let out hope…and then was blamed for the whole thing.

    I had a lot of hope prior to November but that was dashed. Indeed we are overdue for the Divine Feminine.

    Very lovely poem. I especially like the metaphor of the pomegranate, and I definitely like your version of Pandora than the one that has been foisted on us.

    Have a Hopeful New Year, Olga.


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