(For J.M., commemorating Full Moon 30/1/91)
Still is the night, and the clock silent.
Water from somewhere drips,
A breeze moves amongst your hairs.
The Bird, her beak poised, watches
As I caress you, child,
With an absent movement of my hands,
My mind elsewhere.
She of the Silver Wheel
Wheeling in darkness her silver overhead
Watches more than passively
As in Her name I take you and bless you;
And the Dark Hunter,
Jewels in His belt,
Takes you for His own,
Takes me in your flesh
His magical scabbard at His side,
Sword raised, unutterably distant
Yet manifest here in you...
And I, primal woman and primal queen,
Feel Her powerful darkness stirring
And shouldering me aside within my own flesh
As I call Her forth, She of the sky-castle
Spinning dizzily overhead seen unseen;
And I stand by and watch as the Hunter fills your body
(you, no doubt, standing by and watching)
As the Dark Lady fills my body and clothed in our flesh
(...but I did not tell you, nor did you ask
that this is the time of my greatest fertility...)
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Last modified: March 23 2018 16:15:18