Thursday, June 19, 2008


This month you carried me late and heavy
in your belly and finally near Tuesday
midnight you gave me light and life. The season
Kore returns to Demeter, and now you suffer
and I cannot save you though I burn with dreams. my childhood we float, your sweet
husky voice singing about the crescent
moon, with two horns sharp and bright we would
climb into like a boat and row away
and see, you sang, where the pretty moon goes.

In the land where the moon hides, mothers
and daughters hold each other tenderly.
There is no male law at five o'clock.
Our sameness and our difference do not clash
metal on metal but we celebrate and learn...

marge piercy
excerpt from crescent moon like a canoe

1 comment:

Dawn on MDI said...

Thinking of you and your mom.