I look out the window at the big white moon, full, pregnant with life. Gray clouds pass. The sky light dims. The witch in me seeks frankincense and myrrh and words that create magic. I speak them to the moon, offering them like a sacrificed lamb. I am naked on the grass, blades moving through toes, hands to the sky, calling to the gods that made the moon that shines down on my brown skin. The moon and I are sisters remembering connection and time and synchronicity and bodies intertwined in love–deep love. The men that moved our souls and made us women by simply being men, real men. The clouds pass. The sky light beams, lighting the grass around me. Breasts and belly and all things that shine back at the moon, brown and intense. All things. They remember love. The moon writes the stories across the sky.

Artist: S4cr4m3nt (DeviantArt.com)