A Self Portrait
Self Poetry
It is so sad, my friend, that I
May quest and thirst and only know
The half-drawn shadow of the white moon on my head
And never know the dog-moon's teeth around my wrists.
Although you are so strong
Although you are so live
The chill of dawn is in these white bones
And so, I fear, you cannot warm me; even you
Would shrivel cold from my white chill.
I know your arm is the tree's arm
I know you are sap and trunk
I know you are seed and whirling downy wing
And warm with the earth
And so I must leave, leave you, my love,
In the moon light, in the witch-light.
Self Poetry
It is so sad, my friend, that I
May quest and thirst and only know
The half-drawn shadow of the white moon on my head
And never know the dog-moon's teeth around my wrists.
Although you are so strong
Although you are so live
The chill of dawn is in these white bones
And so, I fear, you cannot warm me; even you
Would shrivel cold from my white chill.
I know your arm is the tree's arm
I know you are sap and trunk
I know you are seed and whirling downy wing
And warm with the earth
And so I must leave, leave you, my love,
In the moon light, in the witch-light.
April 2006
Copyright GrannyMoon
2006