I am the magnificent moon
a fertile daughter
on the barren surface
dark eyes pleading
lips full and round,
effulgent.

When I am full—
     I speak.

Don’t you see it? Do you see?

Everything is precious.
Time now for 
the fiercest protection
imaginable.

You gaze upwards . . .
my lips are moving
my eyes pleading.

You blink.
Shake
your head.

Wonder, 
am I mad
under the moon?

No. The sacred
daughter of the moon
speaks to the summer 
daughter standing barefoot 
in damp grass having left
her shoes inside.

I am the magnificent moon daughter
circling the Great Mother, casting
light in the rounds of days.
Starlit and sparkling
     floating
     on black velvet.

My lips move.

Don’t you see it?
     Look!

Daughters, we
are unbreakable.

Pregnant with possibility.
     Fierce in our fullness.