Asase Yaa

She is the Old Mother Earth who was born on a Thursday, the fertile womb that demands rest once a week and respect for every seed planted in her skin. She has no temples, for the entire ground is her altar, and she holds the ancestors in her deep, cool embrace. Do we walk upon the dirt as if it were dead, or do we remember that we are treading on the body of our mother? She is the guardian of truth and the judge of the living, the one who provides the harvest but claims the body back in the end.