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poem on the Rowan moon

January 12, 2012

Máthair Críonna – Wise Mother

 

Grandmother Moon,

it seems you have taken it upon yourself to fill the void–

the one created by our striving,

to shelter us with your pale light, a quilt of calm.

You make us look more closely at the tiny cracks

the crevices, the shadows, this is the way of winter seeing.

You ask us to sit long into the night,

still and watching, a vigil to your passage.

 

And so I settle myself in the window, perched

over the forest of silence, hoping,

watching, holding the space between us

as sacred, alive. A quiet wondering

comes with each illumination, each grove in light,

as if you say, be calm,

watch beneath the surface

make the measure of your longing.

 

Be as the child in wonder

that the moon could come visiting the stairwell

shining, night beyond night, and no longer care why.

Just think about what it would be like

to lie naked drinking her light, the grassy earth your bed,

on a rowan moon in January, no tears to shed, nothing

needed at last but this simple self.

 

Grandmother moon, máthair críonna, mamakilla,

hold us gently sweet mother, hold us.

 

 

 

Jane Galer  Jan. 11, 2012

 

 

 

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One Comment leave one →
  1. January 13, 2012 12:52 pm

    Great poem, Galer!

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