this imaginal space – draft pt.x

the green man reaches up
to touch your snow-feathered shoulder
and you hold him in your pale hands
and take him into the dark places
binding him in a lunar eclipse
as you honour the enchanted union
with the son of the land

queen and daughter, wife and sister
you have many names

Artemis, Marama, Cerridwen, Hekate, Rhiannon, Arianhod

they are our gifts to you, whispered into the wind
our way of calling you family

but in the dark
he does not need to know your name
all he needs is the scent of your hair
the sound of your voice
the touch of your hand
and the ring of silver

 

©clairegriffin2017

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