OYA

(YORUBAN WIND WARRIOR GODDESS)

 

CANTO 6 of the Daemonian Cycle

 

27,759 days ago

I was an infant

Not liking the land of the living

Fretful until a story was

Whispered in my newborn ear

Calming me in my dreams

This is what the voice told me:

 

In that long-ago darkness

There was an Orisha* named Oya

Living in Yorubaland

She had a fiery spirit

Yet ruled the water and

Controlled the storms

Honest and true,

She protected the river

That nourished the people

Guarded the cemeteries

While soothing the

Unquiet spirits who

Often roamed, searching for justice

One day, continued the Voice,

You will meet her and she will

Gift you with the ability to

Help yourself and others

 

But here it is

27,759 days and still

I have no special skill

To assist me

Let alone others

No Oya

No anyone similar

Although I searched endlessly

For someone to protect me

Because unlike Oya,

I was never a fierce warrior

And so I studied other cultures

A myriad of storm gods and goddesses

Even saints and shapeshifters

But they were all the subject of tales

Never the tale-teller

And that’s who I needed

The one who actually charmed the storms

The one who could explain what I must do

To keep myself, family and friends safe too

You are a Vryama Farmeko

My Gran once said

Storm Charmer

And we both laughed

At the ridiculousness of the idea

 

Who am I and, once again,

How did I return to Daemonia?

One morning I received an unknown text

Always deleted them

Could be a hacker

But almost a magical feeling

Compelled me to click into it

 

“Meet Me In The Swamp”

It said

“Walk 50 paces South

To the lightning-struck

Vulture tree

Lying on its side

And wait for me

Now”

Something about aging

Fear of the unknown better than

Fear of living in a cold and lonely

Nursing Home

So I fearlessly walked around the fence

Counting off 50 paces South

The dark swamp full of water moccasins

Maybe even gators and scurrying critters

But no, today, silent, dark

Until a spark appeared

And there she stood

On a turquoise flowering bush

Small as a Disney fairy

Yet mighty as a deity

I knew it was Oya

And although she had been worshipped

For possibly thousands of years

She did not look a day over 10,957 days

While I, at 27,759 days, could be her

Great Gran

 

“I did not forget the promise to you

But there was never any danger

Changes occur and it is time

You are the Vryama Farmeko

All the natural elements I love

Primarily Wind and Water

Have been abducted and forced to destroy

This beautiful Earth

Help me in this

For you are the one

Who can right the world”

 

All these hurricanes and tornados

Are merely a metaphor for the

Coming darkness, I thought

But I am much too old now

To struggle against the

Engulfing of humanity

The political end of times

The conspiracy of unburned Knights Templar

And Nazis needing no “Neo” as a description

Since in our time, our souls were shattered

From their hellish decryption of

Signs, sigils, and a gorgeous mythology

Meant to show us the way, the right way

To walk the path of tolerance

How can I conquer

Armies of brainless zombies

Demons of devilish regions of the inferno?

 

My aging mind raced with protests to share

But Oya said, “Are you not Baba Jaga?

You have been to Daemonia

Where your talent defeated the

Demons at the Earth’s Edge

Restoring all that is good”

 

But I was 14,600 days

Young compared to now

 

“I will give you tools

Like the Piedra de Rayo

And amulets for protection

Talismans for understanding

Do you still have your

Flying mortar and pestle?

And remember, you will have assistance

The Slavic deities Stribog controller of Wind

Mokosh controller of all moisture

And my own Orishas* like the warrior Obba Nani,

Yemaya, queen of the sea

And from Santeria, La Madama

Acting as the mediator between you and

The Spirit World

Spreading love and peace and comfort

For you are Baba Jaga

A song, a spell

A magic bell’s

Silent knell

Is all you need”

 

And I knew

I would do

Whatever my Lady Oya asked

For all she promised was always true…

 

TO BE CONTINUED

 

*Deity

 

©2024 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

IMAGE: Oya