Excerpt from (After) Confession
Mama Moon shines down,
her great
gold face full,
lush as a ripe peach
Photo credit: Kathleen Waldron
hovering low
against black velvet.
I can barely tear
my eyes away, sneak
peeks at her as I drive:
her wise face
serene yet concerned,
full of a knowing.
eons old.
The more I look at
her, the more I want
to howl, send her some
music from that
animal place inside.
I want to proclaim my
love when she is:
a delicate sliver of light,
a brilliant white orb peeking
in at me through my
attic window, a sultry
fiery ball hugging low
to the horizon, and most
of all, a great gold
mama watching over
her precious, weary
earth.
She reaches her arms
around us, protectively.
We feel her touch as
she caresses our oceans
every morn and
eve. We schedule
our lives by her, our
time, as people always
have. She whispers to
our wombs, urging eggs
to release, babies to
sprout or blood to
cleanse.
Let me sing to you
Mama Moon, as you
glide through our skies,
circling round and round
tirelessly, as any
loving mother will do
for her beloved children.
Bless us, Mama Moon.
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