I carry an almost full moon inside me,
hidden but always there,
pulling my internal tides to shore and out again.
I never know when it will surface
white light bright spilling down my cheeks
as an ocean surges onto my shore.
I used to build dykes and diversions and dams
until damn it all I surrendered,
an exhausted sisyphus ceding my sovereignty.
The moon, after all, gets what it wants,
touches every animal heart like the
pure pulsing tones of the steel tongue drum
singing in a language I must have known.
Spill I say, surge all over the bookcliffs and into the lilac sky.
I will rise on clouds of moon dust to meet you
and remember how we talk in tears.
LOVE!!!!!
Beautiful❤️
Super reflections Karen, your heart words touched us all. Thank you.
A strong piece.
I’m kind of down on Greek/Roman mythic references, however, (sisyphus) since it seems like colonialist/settler baggage. Gods we don’t even belief in. What about Mayan gods, or one of the 500 North American tribes with their own myths and legends???
Everything else rings true for me.