O Moon of Darkest Night!

O Moon of Darkest Night.

Methinks I heard you singing

As I twirled over star-drenched fields

And drank my lovers' breath

Your silver voice caressed my heart strings

And in bed, while I hoped to dream

of Freedom's glorious Seductions!

I drifted away; lost again on the river

of my Grieving...

But then? Oh sweet Moon

your Lullaby brought me back

Home.

P.S. I am not a poet, but I find words to be therapeutic. Journaling is not a rigid process. Sometimes it is biographical, sometimes more fictional. Sometimes it is visual or somatic. It is honest, messy, and beautifully wild!