As a young woman, I enjoyed walking alone at night looking at the moon and stars – until a scary encounter stopped my nocturnal wandering. I wrote this as an expression of my frustration and sadness that I no longer felt safe enough to do so…
You send forth your milky
sweetness. Your silvered completeness
flowering for me to see.
You beacon the black night –
rounded in your contoured clearness,
powered to pull the sea.
You throw your welcome wide –
weaving spells of magic madness,
creating wells of tragic sadness
for those stranded in your tide.
You’re feared by the male mind –
your allure and maternal mildness
mistaken for a pretanatural wildness
by those who’d scorn womankind.
Oh Mother Moon, me and mine
are shuttered and trapped,
muffled and sapped,
our answering tune
strangled to a whine.
So, I shall never see dew-jewelled grasses
dance silvered, and gleaming in your milky tide.
For I am afraid to take the chance-
I press my hurting head,
against the chilly pane,
yearning for your silky touch –