No Need for Words
Epigram: “Imagine the time the particle you are
returns to where it came from.” - Rumi
Oh Mother moon, teacher of mysteries,
you brought me here in your light,
they brought me home in you fullness.
Now, I come each night to greet you.
I praise your fingernails
growing long and round.
There are such stories sewn into
your black, yellow, white,
red and orange robes.
Robes you change as often
as your tales.
In the tower of midnight I sit
as you sing your secrets into the universe.
What the night knows,
the moon knows,
and more!
What we each know is what you tell us.
What we remember is sown into the robes you wrap around us.
Listen
we are here to remember – to join you and dance.
Your sister moons across the cosmos
also call to us to remember –
we are not alone – we are not separate – we are one breath
inhaling, exhaling, spinning, remembering, celebrating,
growing our fingernails long and round,
scratching names and stories into the clay of earth.
The stories I remember cannot be told
except in your presence –
And then, only in the language of youth, the language of the womb,
the language of the universe,
when there is no need for words.
