Last week I visited my lovely sister, who lives right in the middle of the beautiful city of Vancouver. After a week of mostly talking, sleeping too little and drinking too many cocktails, I flew back to my home country. I watched from the plane window as I said goodbye to the vibrant city, the impressive sky scrapers, the deep green of Stanley Park and the beautiful Lions Gate Bridge over the Burrard Inlet. Soon Vancouver was just a speck between the Pacific Ocean and the snowy peaks of the Rocky Mountians.
In the nine hour flight to Amsterdam, I re-read two of my favorite books. The first is Shameless by Nadia Bolz-Weber, dealing with the shame the conservative church has put on the (female) body. The second book is a storybook of Greek Mythology by Dutch author Imme Dros.
And then of course I had to write a little poem.
This painting is the Birth of Venus, by Botticelli. However, in Greek mythology Venus is known as Aphrodite. She comes in many forms. Why not call her Eve as well.
The Birth of Venus
There’s a sigh in the silence and wind on the water,
a word that is stronger than death.
She was born from desire, this stardust daughter,
of fire, of rhythm and breath,
of melody, harmony, rising and falling,
with wind in her hair and an ocean calling.
She has lingering fingers and carrying hips,
there is singing and sighing and salt on her lips.
Place a hand on her heart, feel the beat of her pulse.
Hear the crashing of waves and the cry of the gulls.
Annemieke de Gier 