New Moon Baby

NewMoonBaby

It is no surprise to find
I am a new moon birth

When others cocoon
to plan and rest
I hide
lest I step out of line
my wild self emerging
That woman who bites and
bares a darkened soul
without fear of consequence
Opposed to apology
Madness near at hand

New Moon
Reminds me
not be to quiet
But silent
Lest I step over
too many lines

A dark time indeed
A time to withdraw and breathe
A time to watch
No reverberation
A time to know my other side
cradled without abrasion

. . .

My teacher, Shiloh Sophia, suggested in my PRISM exploration that we find what moon we were born under. I’ve never had my chart done, but it is easy to find the moon.

This was no surprise.

About two years ago, I began simply paying attention to how I was feeling during the full, quarters, and half moon cycle. It didn’t take me very long to realize something very important. I am a mad woman when there is a new moon and when stress is thrown into the pot. My life at school was pretty much constant stress, so I didn’t have to look hard.

I began simply marking one day before, the day of, and one day after the new moon on my work calendar. It was just a reminder to me to chill. I realized I shouldn’t make any big decisions if it could be avoided. If not, I needed time to think in quiet and not jump to conclusions. Also, people really bug me for some reason during this time, so sheltering in place alone whenever possible was also not a bad  idea.

Once I had this on my calendar, I could first watch what was happening and I did. I really was off the charts at times. Once I was aware, it was then I could either plan an alternate route or simply breathe and breathe and breathe.

My new moon times are much better now.

We are tied with that red thread to nature, too, maybe even more so. And all at that cellular level.

I am excited to open more deeply to those cells and see how I fold into something new.

. . .

I created the image in PicMonkey from a blank canvas. I used their overlays, frames, textures, etc, to create the image. There was no beginning photo on this one.

Summer’s End

He left without fanfare
not so much as a breath
of good-bye

summer ending
his handiwork
clinging to memories
remained
proof of his existence

he would not be missed

.

.

Author’s Note:
While cleaning up some photo files I found this photo of a spider web on my deck last fall. I had forgotten about it. After a bit of play with PicMonkey I decided it called for a few words, too.