Forgiveness

01

 

 

 

 

 

And the Moon said,
I forgive the Sun for not shining his light upon me all of the time,
for it is the lack of light that gives me my definition.

And the Moon said,
I forgive the darkness for not hiding me thereby betraying my presence,
for it is the shadow that gives me my fulfillment.

And the Moon looked to the great Seas,
and said,
You mesmerize me with your undulations as you dance to my music.
But in that, I forgive you for that which you reflect back to me,
All that I hate in you, for it is I that I see,
For you also reflect that which I love, and that is also within me.

And the Moon regarded the Earth,
and said,
You who keep blocking my view of the Great Father Sun,
I forgive that I cannot see all of your beauty,
for His light is often upon your back
And I only get to see a hint of all that you are.

And the Moon said,
Oh, time, you who I both demarcate and am bludgeoned by,
It is you who has left so many marks upon my skin,
Not the stones thrown at me and upon me.
I forgive the pain of all of the years,
for it is you who has given me my character.

And the Moon said,
I forgive that I change every day,
for in this I am always the same.
It is this rhythm that the drums of the people sing back to me.
It is this motion that gives them the gift of dance
and it is this that is Love.

Kin

It is impossible to know

anything about you.

So I make it up

in my head.

So many things

you’ve said,

in my imaginings,

undaunted by your silence,

you speak volumes

to me.

Endlessly parading,

dream-like,

I know you better,

then you know yourself,

you told me once.

I laughed,

embarrassed.

I study you,

holding you in my hands,

your black and white image,

forever young,

Forever bold,

forever mine.

Anna

Anna,

how I love the way

your name feels in my mouth,

what can I tell you,

but that the memory of you,

is as if from a day long forgotten,

though perhaps you live in my future,

like a dream.

And when I look at you,

my breath is stolen,

as if your beauty

abides death herself,

for you ,

my dear Anna,

are the embodiment

of a time,

stolen from my nubile fingers,

a fire that burns

like a star,

far away in the midnight sky,

yet my body

sings the song

of that heat,

every time our eyes alight,

your mouth ignites a flame,

with your every smile.

My Anna,

though I lost you

before we ever met,

perhaps now that I’ve found you,

our hearts will unite,

and at last,

we will never

forget.

Holocaust of the Cherubim

Broken, you lay before me,

shattered limbs of plumpness, dimpled

with memory

of a time, innocent,

I am not sure how you,

winged creatures of Aphrodite,

armed and ready to inflict

the sting of Love’s bite,

became mired in our prescription

for you,

branded by our lust for

Love’s power,

snatching your quiver and bow

from your tiny grasp,

plucking the silken feathers

from your wings,

adorning ourselves,

like hollow birds of stone.

The sky, once filled

with glimpses of flittering

magic,

are now empty,

and though the fireflies

search for you on the summer nights,

they go home alone,

no longer lighting your paths,

no longer telling the world

your secrets.

If You Remember

Do you love me enough

to fight for me?

Oh man,

as your forefathers did,

carried away by

my Valkyries,

to sit on a throne

of heroism,

they died rather than

succumb

to the vile lie

of the One Son,

for they knew that

my body contains

many Suns,

but I am all.

Would you return to my ways?

Live your life in

harmonia?

Honor and Service

the mantle you wear?

Or do you seek comfort

in your enslavement,

do you hang your head

with the shame of your

cowardice,

pretending it is a prayer.

A true man knows

he is born to be a hero,

and his only way there

is his service to his Queen,

for to serve another man

is to be a pawn,

and to serve a god

is to be a slave,

but to serve a goddess

is to know what life is,

to feel her force in

everything,

and to die,

again and again,

as if thrust in the depths

of the woman he loves,

reborn to fight another day,

and live, glorious,

with joy.

Your Goddess Calls

Oh man, drink me,

like the luscious wine you swirl,

delicately sifting over searching tongue,

cherished in its crystal glass,

lovingly adored by you.

Call to me,

with your fiery loins,

for I do not forbid you this,

So that you may explode

your vision white,

the only sound you hear,

your panting,

With my name whispered,

as your hand caresses,

supple curves,

tender ports,

in which your horizons

expand,

Taste me, Man,

like the delicate morsels

your hunger craves,

for I nourish that which

resounds deep within you,

aching,

searching,

longing,

all the while I stand before you,

unrecognized,

forgotten,

I was always here,

it is you who left me,

secretly adoring me

with your probing senses,

seeking me,

forbidden,

but not by me,

by you,

Oh man,

forbidden,

yet calling,

you are,

forever yearning,

but I am here,

waiting,

for you to remember.

The Good Mother

You lay upon me,

so small and heavy,

as I shook with the strain

of your shimmering arrival.

Tenderly, I held onto you,

crushed by the weight of

my duty,

awed by the power of my love

for you,

this delicate creature,

a part of my body,

yet separate,

my child hand huge

in your miniature grasp.

Together, we forged new discovery.

Each of us traversing terrain,

foreign,

I sheltered you from monsters and villains,

fought them off,

or tried to,

enraptured by your

blossoming mind,

ravenous curiosity,

enduring pursuit of

the next adventure.

My love a cavern,

so deep and loyal,

I could get lost in it,

reminding myself I

had to let go,

to not strangle the flower,

to not cage the bird,

yet how could I know,

that with my love freely given,

you would cast me off,

like so many spurned belongings,

boxes of things

left behind

as you hopped from place to place,

me,

who smiled as you tasted your

first fruit,

your face alight with wonder,

who hugged herself,

arms tightly wound,

as you were carted away

for the first day of school.

Discarded,

rendered mute,

by the coldness

of your indifference.

You buried me

in a grave

of your Self.