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Full Moon over waterNothing dies forever.
Not if you wait long enough.
Not with time on your side.
The moon knows.
She has watched stone towers dominate
fields where May dancers once bloomed
watched wind and war and
sunset after sunset      open
just enough     here       and here
for flowers to resurrect themselves
a breath of hope in concrete.

Nothing lives forever.
Not even stone.
Count the cycle of   sunrise moonrise sunrise   long enough
and the Temple of Artemis, outside Selçuk
wonder of the ancient world,
which ate the many-breasted mother like a
split  and juicy  pineapple,
is no more than slabs of marble
on a shallow pond,
and the double church of Mary
which rose to supplant her down the road
is but the frame of a once-stone church

Yet look how the spiral changes,
stays the same.
The moon in all her faces
on mother god,
virgin goddess,
virgin mother.
Female.  All female
on this ancient holy land.

We make so much of becoming a man —
the study, the Torah, the tallis.
But women…
nature names women.
The moon calls us into being.
Where is our moon song?

Nothing dies forever.
Temples nailed shut,
women burned,
mysteries abandoned
or driven underground.
The moon can wait.
Some winters last longer than others.

She dreamt of flying.
Not like birds,
not wings outstretched,
but skywalking.
Up untouched stairs
Down near-glass streets
Sometimes   only sometimes    tree-ward.
Heart light    standing flight.
Eight clicks of the planet.
twenty       forty
as dreams teach their silent lessons.
One day, dreams, like flowers,
slip between the cracks at dawn.
One body leaves the ground in joy,

And the flowers,
year after year,
generations down the road,
send signals on the wind,
pollen and whispers,
inexplicable, unlikely,
calling the dormant female seedling,
the ready hip, the restless arch,
the half remembered dream.
Beloved, it’s Midsummer.

It’s Moontime.
It’s Beltane.
Come dance!

© Deborah Edler Brown

Reprinted from Sisters Singing: Incantations, Blessings, Prayers, Art, Songs and Sacred Stories by Women, Carolyn Brigit Flynn, editor (Wild Girl Publishing, 2008).

Image of the Full Moon courtesy of Exsodus at FreeDigitalPhotos.net