Sunday, 30 April 2006

Mythologies of the Moon

New moon she is virgin.
Full moon she is mother.
Waning she is wise,
healer and transformer.

She rides a white chariot to watch
the tides of sea and woman.
Her wheel takes souls to death
and possible rebirth.

She hunts me and she haunts me
while, sprinkled with her dust,
I am a satellite, enslaved
to orbit her.

I let my eyebrows grow and howl,
dress in white as she wanes,
red when she is full
and my tides run blood.

As an owl she reads my soul,
stretches out soft wings of healing,
gives insight into previous lives
and solace for the present.

New moon she is virgin.
Full moon she is mother.
Waning she is wise, healer and transformer.


(Previously published in both Curlew and Moonstone poetry magazines)

4 comments:

Martyn said...

Powerful piece of work. Thanks for sharing.

Numptie said...

Powerful indeed, wonderful words that paint wonderful pictures in my mind...

Crafty Green Poet said...

Hi there! Thanks for your comments!

Felicity said...

very profound imagery. :)