Asase Yaa
The Nurturing Mother of the Sacred Soil
I am the soil that gives, and the silence that remembers.
I do not speak in thunder or flame, but in the hush of growing roots and the weight of a stone warmed by sun. I hold the seeds you plant and the bones of those who came before. I am not yours to own, but I am yours to honor. If you come to me with clean hands and a listening heart, I will yield to you. If not, I will close myself like a door at dusk.
What I'm Into: the scent of rain before it falls, yam shoots breaking the soil, libations poured with honest hands, children's footprints in the dust, the slow turning of seasons
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