This is my MoonTime.
The time when my womb weeps its sacred tears,
tears that have frightened men for millennia,
yet frighten neither me nor my sisters.
Oh, how misunderstood is this sacred time,
this time of cleansing and renewal!
This time when old blood is cast off without injury.
What powerful creatures are we, women,
to bleed without wound!
Tonight I will light the sacred fires
and dance to the swaying of the trees
as the sparks spiral upward to the moon
and the stars keep time for me.
For this is my MoonTime
and I am sacred.
My womb is sacred.
My blood is sacred.
My body is sacred.
And this is my MoonTime.
I will let the my sister, the moon,
bathe me in her cool, mysterious glow.
I will rinse my hair and my mind
in her gleaming pools.
Her moonlight inspires contemplation.
My MoonTime invites meditation
and a cleansing of the mind
of clutter, distractions and vexations.
I shall let my moonsister's sweet glow
pour into me,
every inch,
sweeping away the shadows in my soul,
filling me with softly radiant light.
For this is my MoonTime
and I am of the moon tonight.
I am made of moondust and stars
and am loved by beings
whose lives are a journey
a million miles from home.
And when I look at the moon and the stars,
I see myself reflected in their light.
For this is my MoonTime. And I am glad for it. |