I stood beneath
the eclipsing moon,
the sound of whippoorwills
a chorus
rising from damp trees.
Thin white clouds
scudded around fresh stars
and I recited
the Charge of the Goddess,
slowly and alone,
remembering as I always do
the feel of sand beneath my feet
and my baby’s head
against my heart
when I first memorized
these words,
“let your divine innermost self
be enfolded in the rapture
of the infinite.”
The sky that day was gray bowl
above the sea,
spitting rain onto my shoulders
as I turned in wide circles
across the sand,
letting the words
become a part of my soul,
sink into me,
until my bones remembered
them too.
Now, I stand,
hand on my heart
and say aloud:
“Goddess, we need a world
that does not hide you
and that does not hide from you.
Let me be a part
of creating this world.”
I feel her,
as I do,
both beneath my skin
and everywhere,
all at once
and I allow myself to be
enfolded for these
breaths in the rapture
of the infinite,
the full moon
becoming enclosed
in the shadow of the earth.
